


No Rain

by Inky



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-05
Updated: 2013-09-04
Packaged: 2017-12-14 01:43:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 33
Words: 112,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/831267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inky/pseuds/Inky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All you can say is that your life is pretty plain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A fanfic inspired by the song 'No Rain' by Blind Melon. As far as offensive content goes, this fanfic is very tame compared to past fanfictions I've written, so there are no trigger warnings as of now. There most likely won't be any later, either. This *will* be a longfic, so strap in and prepare for some development and a climax and resolution and all of that good ol' story mumbo-jumbo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No Rain cover art by zamii070.tumblr.com.

__

_I’m sorry, Janey, I can’t see you as anything more than a sister._

 

The bar rattles as you slam your shot glass down onto it and demand another. And another. Any man who dares get close enough to you earns a threat of mace in their eyes through your gritted teeth, not that many approach you anyway. You’re fat (voluptuous, argues Roxy) and ugly (absolutely gorgeous, argues Roxy) and there’s nothing you’d rather do than drown your sorrows in alcohol right now (hell yeah, agrees Roxy).

You’re sitting at the bar on your twenty-first birthday. Your brand new ID is still made of paper. You had been convinced you wouldn’t have to use it until you got the plastic one in the mail. Sadly, you had been mistaken, because here you are, elbow on the bar, forehead in your palm, bitter tears dribbling uselessly into your shot glass. Beside you sits Roxy, who gazes at you sympathetically as she rubs your back and scratches you where it always itches just below your bra strap.

“Just let it out, girl,” Roxy says. Surprisingly, she’s sober, abandoning her own beer to comfort her friend. She’s such a good friend. The best friend you have. Good girl. Best friend. “Oh, Janey…”

You don’t realize that you’ve just let out a sob and a few people are looking at you strangely now. Great, that’s just what you need right now.

“I wasn’t even friend-zoned, I was _family-_ zoned!” you wail melodramatically, the alcohol affecting your judgment as you bury your head in your arms. Roxy rubs your back even harder.

“I know, baby, I know, we’ve all been there!” Roxy says, and she sounds tearful, too. You peek through damp locks of curly hair that you had been crying on and sniffle up at your best friend.

“Wh-Why are _you_ crying?” you blubber up at her, and Roxy pulls her ugliest crying face.

“Because you’re sad and I totally want to be you, you’re so fucking pretty,” she whines. There are people staring at you and a few of the douchier men are physically backing away from you two now.

“You don’t want to be me!”

“Yes I dooooo, like, your hair is so pretty and you’re so curvy and perfect and you have big boobs and I have little mosquito bites!” Roxy cries, and now she’s bawling too. Maybe she had more to drink than you originally thought.

“My boobs aren’t even big, I’m a C-cup!” you cry, throwing your arms around Roxy and crying loudly. Some part of your brain tells you this is ridiculous, but you don’t care right now. It’s lady’s night and you’ll cry like a baby if you want to.

“I know, they’re still gigantic!” Roxy sobs, honking your breasts.

The two of your cling to each other and cry until you’re kicked out of the bar. Locking arms, the two of you stumble tipsily onto the streets of Maple Valley, Washington. It’s dark and rainy and gosh, this is just miserable. The two of you are crying like drunken idiots and people are walking across the street to avoid passing you on the sidewalk. Normally this sort of behavior would be hysterically hilarious and, you suppose, in a certain light, it is. But right now, you are legitimately upset and the fact that your boobs are bigger than Roxy’s is breaking your heart. Oh, and also you had been rejected by Jake English under the terms that you are too much of a sister to him to deserve girlfriend status. Damn your deep friendship! Damn it to hell!

You don’t mean that of course, and the guilt of thinking that makes you cry more. Your glasses are all fogged up and you can barely see straight and your mascara is running and you have snot coming out of your nose.

“You’re a beautiful, sexy, Asian woman and you don’t need no man!” Roxy suddenly screams into the sky before inhaling a rain drop and doubling over to cough and dry heave onto the pavement.

“Yes I do!” you sob back, kneeling beside Roxy as she continues to cough and sputter and choke on her tears.

“Oh my gosh you’re totally accepting the oppressive and sexist stereotypes of your own race and it’s breaking my heart!” Roxy wails. You sit back on your heels and bawl right back.

“I know, I’m a terrible example of Asian culture!” you shriek. You’re pretty sure people are calling the police on the two of you now.

“I don’t even know if you’re Chinese or Japanese!” Roxy screams, sobbing and flopping forward to pound her fists on the sidewalk.

“I’m Korean!”

_“I’m such an ignorant little slut!”_

Quite suddenly there’s a clattering sound behind the two of you and you look over your shoulder to see Dirk Strider himself, his umbrella discarded on the ground and a flashlight in his hand, pointed at the two of you. He stares at horror at the both of you, but you don’t understand the weight of it until he whips his shades off and pure ice shoots out of his eyes. He’s furious.

“What. The actual. Fuck,” he says slowly. “What the hell are you two doing out here?”

Roxy sniffles loudly and looks over her shoulder.

“Janey’s a lightweight, Dirk,” Roxy whimpers. You slap her shoulder.

“I’m not even drunk!” you slur drunkenly. Dirk gives a fantastic roll of his eyes and tucks his shades into his coat pocket before coming forward and hoisting the two of you onto his shoulders in a double fireman’s carry. You start protesting about your weight and he roughly (and easily) jostles you on his shoulder to shut you up.

He tosses the two of you into the backseat of his beautiful, jet black sportscar like a couple of soaking wet alley cats before getting into the driver’s seat and speeding off.

 

* * *

An hour later you’re quite sobered up and feeling a mixture of nausea and discomfort from your drenched clothes clinging to your body. Right now, Dirk is delivering a passed-out Roxy to her mother, who accepts her with a knowing sigh. Afterwards, Dirk returns to the car and slams the door behind him, his knuckles gripping the steering wheel tightly as he silently drives.

“We were really fucking worried, you know?” he finally says. His usual deadpan is long gone and is replaced with words dripping with venom. You flinch. “Seriously, Jane, your father nearly had a panic attack. No note, no phone call, nothing!”

“…I’m twenty-one,” you say weakly, and Dirk slams his palms down on the steering wheel.

“That doesn’t matter!” he shouts. You’re crying again, feeling like garbage for treating your loved ones like this. Earlier, you had literally just disappeared. Downright up and left, and you think you accidentally left the garage door open or the front door unlocked or something, so obviously when your father had gotten home, he had probably flipped. Dirk continues the verbal lashing. “God, you and Rox were hammered when I found you, screamin’ about god knows what, y’all could’ve been killed, Jane!”

You know he’s _really_ pissed when his southern accent leaks through. He’d been living in Washington to be close to you, Roxy, and Jake for so long now that it hardly ever comes up, but right now he’s pretty much emotionally compromised.

“I’m sorry,” you say, trying to make your voice strong and failing miserably. “Truly, Dirk, you have no idea-”

“Yeah, you would’ve been sorry, if anyone besides me had found you,” Dirk snaps. “God damn it all. You’re like a sister to me, Jane. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

You sob suddenly and Dirk’s hands loosen just a tad on the steering wheel. He whips his head around, looking at you with his bright amber eyes before turning back to the road. Slowing, he pulls off to the side and parks the car before turning in his seat and putting a hand on your knee.

“Jane? What is it?” he asks, his concern turned down from maximum overload to gentle in two seconds flat. “Did something happen?”

“It’s so silly and ridiculous, I can’t believe I let this affect me so much,” you weep softly, brushing your wet lashes. “Jake, he… well, I told him how I felt today. I felt like… well, it’s my twenty-first birthday, right? And I thought I’d be lucky, so I… and he…”

Dirk visibly softens and tilts his head.

“Oh. Oh, fuck. Jane. Jane, I’m so sorry,” Dirk whispers, rubbing your leg before reaching up and stroking a wet lock of hair out of your face. “Shit. Why didn’t you call me?”

“I didn’t think it’d be right,” you sniffle. “Because you…”

“I was an experiment for him when we were sixteen, jeez, Jane,” Dirk laughs. “I am so over that, like, it’s completely… yeah. Don’t cry. C’mon, chin up. You’re stronger than that. And English isn’t really anyone to cry over in the first place. The guy’s dumber than a bag of rocks.”

You cough out a laugh and Dirk quirks his lips at you before patting your thigh.

“There’s that smile. You’ve had worse, so suck it up and rub some dirt in it. Be a man.”

You laugh again and this time, the smile stays on your face even as the tears cling to your lashes.

“Can I wear my mustache, Mister Strider?” you ask in a mock-serious tone.

“Fuck yeah you can wear your mustache.”

You grin as you take a lock of your hair and tuck it under your nose so you can pinch it there with your lips. Dirk glances over his shoulder before returning to putting the car in drive.

“I have the weirdest boner right now,” he says, and you start laughing again, snorting a bit and smacking your hand over your mouth. “Good girl. Yeah. Don’t you _ever_ think that I won’t be there when you need me. I could’ve given you a better time than some stupid, sleazy bar.”

“I know, I know,” you sigh. “You’re right and I’m wrong yet again, Dirk. I am forever in your glorious debt of rightness. Your rightliness.”

“You’re damn right I’m right,” Dirk says. “And don’t you forget it.”

* * *

 

By the time you get home you’re all nauseated again and, when Dirk helps you out of the car, you stumble on your feet. The alcohol that had been pooling in your belly while you had been sitting down spreads throughout your body and you want to puke, but you fight against it. Dirk ends up carrying you up to the house, not too keen on listening to you moaning and whining on the two minute uphill walk up your driveway. When you protest, he claims that he should’ve actually driven up the driveway. You’re secretly relieved that he’s such a gentleman.

At the doorstep, he sets you back down on your feet and puts an arm around your shoulders (he’s damn tall and you’re short, so putting his arm around your waist is out of the question) before reaching out to ring the doorbell. The door bursts open in record time and Dad Crocker stands there. One look from him and you know you’re in for a verbal whipping.

“Excuse me sir, is this yours?” Dirk asks as Mister Crocker reaches out and takes you by the arm. He’s firm but gentle at the same time, somehow.

“Yes, I’m afraid,” he sighs. “Thank you, Mister Strider. Please come in, I will make some hot tea. I have some cake too, if you’d like.”

“Sure,” Dirk says, and you bite back a groan. You’re going to get the indirect lecture now, and Dirk is going to be there for the whole thing.

But surprisingly, your father doesn’t say a thing, just silently ushers you to the staircase and wordlessly jerks his head towards your bedroom. You nod and go upstairs to dry off and put on some warm, fresh clothes. When you’re finished with that, you find your father and Dirk in the kitchen, sitting across from you at the kitchen table. Dirk’s shades are back on his face, giving him that cool, familiar look about him. It puts you at ease. Quietly, you go to the table and sit down adjacent to Dirk. You offer to pour him tea but he just laughs and does it himself, giving you a dismissive wave of his hand as he does so.

“Thank you for bringing my daughter home, Mister Strider,” Dad says. “I’m very relieved to have her home, especially on such a stormy night.”

“Yeah, it’s no problem, Mister C,” Dirk says, tipping back in his chair and putting his hands behind his head. “She was fine when I found her. Off being a proper lady and all that.”

You’re eternally grateful for Dirk’s lie, and a gentle bump against his jeans with your bare foot under the table promises him that you owe him one. He responds with a twitch of his lips.

“Really?” Dad asks, nodding. “In that case, I’m relieved. Very, very relieved indeed. Yes. What brought this on, anyway?”

“It’s silly,” you say just as Dirk says “Jake rejected her.”

You kick him fiercely under the table with a bang, and the rattling teacups have your father squinting.

“Jake? Mister English broke my little girl’s heart?”

“Dad!” you groan. Dad pounds the table with his fist with sudden fury that has tea sloshing onto the mahogany.

“The heathen! The bastard, excuse my French!” he cries. “He will rue this day!”

“Dad, no, stop, there is no need for anybody to rue the day,” you sigh as Dirk snickers beside you. “Like I said, it’s silly. It was a silly reason to go out and get drunk.”

“You’re darn right it is, but that doesn’t stop me from being angry at him. You are a fine young lady and beautiful and-” Dad cuts himself off because he’s getting choked up. Embarrassed, you hide your face and shake your head. “I just hate seeing my precious baby girl upset!”

He sniffles and snuffles before excusing himself to blow his nose. You glower at Dirk and he just grins right back at you.

“It’s fine,” you assure when Dad returns. “I’m just going to return to my studies and move on. I mean, it’s the only logical thing to do!”

“I’m so proud of you,” Dad practically whimpers, wiping the tears from his eyes. “So, so proud! I am undeserving of having such a perfect daughter-”

“ _Daaad_.”

“Alright, alright. But I mean it! You are a wonderful young lady,” Dad says. You sigh.

“Okay, Dad, c’mon. Go to bed, it’s late,” you say, going to your father and leaning down to peck the bald patch on his receding hairline. “Me and Dirk will clean up.”

Dad nods and finally leaves to retire to his bedroom, leaving you and Dirk alone in the kitchen.

“Goodness. He can be so silly sometimes! I’m sorry for that,” you say. Dirk just shrugs at you and stands, smoothing down his white turtleneck sweater and picking up the teapot. He brings the dishes to the sink and starts cleaning while you dry them and place them carefully in the cupboard. Dirk wipes down the table, and in about five minutes, the kitchen is cleaned and sparkling. While you dry your hands on a dishtowel, you smile at Dirk. “And… thank you for tonight. For everything, including picking up me and Roxy! And being there for me. And pretty much everything. Thank you for being you, Mister Strider.”

“Anytime, Miss Crocker,” Dirk says, his voice low to avoid disturbing the now-snoring Mister Crocker in the next room. You smile brightly. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Yes, of course,” you say, hanging up the dishtowel on the handle of the stove and turning back to Dirk with your hands on your hips. “What, you think I can’t handle a little rejection? Tsk, tsk.”

“You couldn’t handle it earlier, which is why I’m concerned. Also, you’re going to have a wicked hangover in the morning. But you sobered up quickly, so maybe you’ll be fine. Just drink a ton of water, a’ight? And sleep on your side tonight.”

“Why on earth should I?”

“So you don’t puke and drown in your own vomit,” Dirk replies. You laugh and come forward to smack his chest, which brings a smile to his thin lips.

“That’s quite enough, Dirk!” you say. “Thinking about it makes me sick.”

“Ha. It’s your own fault. I have no sympathy.”

You reach out to smack his chest again and he snatches up your hand easily in his large one and squeezes, making your knuckles pop in protest. You squeal and he shushes you, making you giggle. He holds your hand for a prolonged moment. He’s warm despite his cool personality. You smile at him, tilting your head questioningly.

“I really am sorry things… didn’t work,” Dirk says quietly, holding your hand a bit tighter for a moment. Your smile fades slowly and you look at the tile floor.

“Yeah, well. You can’t always get what you want, I suppose! I just hope that after this we will continue to remain friends. I mean, he is my best friend, after all. He may be a complete and utter… well, _wanker,_ sometimes, but he’s still my friend,” you say strongly. “Truly, Dirk, there is no need to fret. I’m okay! Just dandy, hoo hoo!”

“If you insist,” Dirk says, running his thumb over the top of your hand and sending warm tingles up your arm. Maybe you’re just cold? No, that’s not it. Striders are natural furnaces. It must be a Texan thing. He pulls you in for a hug, enveloping you in that perfect warmth, and you embrace him back, your arms sneaking under his and your hands splaying across his shoulder blades. You rest your chin on his shoulder and shut your eyes. You feel warm and bubbly and happy all over, even though you’re standing on tiptoes and it’s hard to keep balance. Dirk wouldn’t let you fall.

Too soon, he pulls away, then strokes a lock of hair behind your ears.

“Jake doesn’t know what he’s missing,” he says. “And by the time he realizes that, some lucky man is going to swoop down and sweep you off your feet. But knowing you, Jane, you’ll be the one doing the wooing, you charming young woman you.”

You blush and giggle like a fool, shaking your head.

“Oh, enough of the flattery, Dirk. Don’t you have a needy cat to return home to?” you ask, raising an eyebrow. Dirk rolls his eyes.

“Dave Jr. will live. He’s a needy little bitch but if I know anything about human Dave, he’ll be just fine by himself for a day or two,” Dirk says. “And before you ask, yes, Dave’s doing fine. Still off fucking around in L.A.”

“Annnnd?” you trail off suggestively.

“And what?”

“The question! When is he going to pop the question?” you ask excitedly, bouncing on the balls of your feet. Dirk groans.

“You nosy vixen. Don’t remind me of that. The fact that my older brother is potentially rolling between the sheets with Roxy’s mother is not my idea of romance in any way, shape or form.”

“But it is!” you whine. “You and Roxy would be step-siblings, it’d be just peachy!”

“Gross.”

You pout and Dirk just sighs at you.

“I don’t know when he’s going to pop the question. As far as I know, he’s nervous as hell and Rose of course already knows. She scares _me._ I have no idea how Roxy is her daughter. Rose is just passive aggressively dropping hints to him last I heard, and half of the reason he’s not coming up from L.A. to propose is because he’s formulating this totally complex and ironic way to ask her to marry him. It’s kind of fucked up. Both of them are fucked up.”

“Golly, that does sound like a pickle. Please fill me in when something happens! Won’t you, Dirk?”

“Yes, yes, of course,” Dirk assures you, patting your shoulder. “Relax, Crocker, don’t get your knickers in a bunch.”

“My knickers are quite straight and un-bunched, thank you very much.”

There’s a small silence before Dirk brings you into another hug and kisses the top of your head.

“Sleep well,” he says softly. “And feel free to call me whenever you need me.”

You snuggle him back and nod.

“Alright. You get some sleep, too. I know you haven’t been getting enough of it.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

With that, Dirk takes his leave, and you stand in the doorway to the house, waving as he drives away. Once he’s gone, you close the door softly behind you and stand there for a moment. You bring your hand to your face and just press it against your cheek, hoping that some of Dirk’s warmth will still be there. It’s not.

In search of something to get you out of the cold, you trudge slowly upstairs, go to your bedroom, and flop down onto your bed. Pulling up your quilt around you, you allow yourself exactly five minutes of tears before sniffing firmly and demanding your body to stop. Surprisingly, it listens to you, and you slip into a dreamless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can follow my *writing-only* blog at http://stridemother.tumblr.com, and you can follow my *personal* blog at http://porrimicide.tumblr.com. Questions regarding the fanfiction should go to my *personal* blog only please, as I will NOT be answering any questions on my writing only blog. No Rain updates will be tagged under #norainupdates, and any discussion/fanart/etc. will be tagged under #noraininky. Please do not post in the #norain or the #no rain tag, as they are both being used! Thank you!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought I'd go ahead and upload chapter two, since I'm quite a few chapters ahead and well into chapter 6 now. So here's the next chapter, fresh off the proofreading board. Special thanks to cherryburlesque.tumblr.com and silentescapade.tumblr.com for their help with proofing!

The hangover you’re greeted with in the morning doesn’t surprise you, yet does at the same time. You wake up at eleven in the morning with a dry mouth and a skull-splitting headache. With a moan, you roll over and hold your belly, half afraid you’re going to puke right here and now.

But you don’t, because all of a sudden, there’s a hand on your shoulder, rolling you onto your back. A cool washcloth is applied to your face. Groaning, you squint to see Dirk kneeling beside your bed. Your eyes snap open too fast and for a moment you’re sure they’re being pushed out of your head because of your throbbing brain, so you quickly shut them again.

“Dirk?” you ask, and your voice is utter hell. “What in heaven’s name are you doing here?”

“Your dad’s at work, and he called me to come take care of you for a bit. He thought since I took you home last night that I’m responsible enough to take care of you now. How kind of him, yeah?” Dirk asks. His voice, unlike yours, is low and smooth and rumbling, and it brings you comfort.

“You’re such a wonderful friend,” you murmur. He pats your cheek and you lean into it, which makes him pause before ruffling your hair.

“Yes I am,” Dirk agrees in an equally (and mockingly) affectionate-sounding whisper. You giggle weakly and trail off into a moan. You have to pee and you don’t know if sitting up will make you have to puke or not. “Alright, Crocker, lift your head a bit. We need to get some water in your system.”

You nod and he helps you lift your head so he can gently tip a glass of cool water into your mouth. You let it trickle slowly down your throat, and some of it dribbles down the sides of your face, but it feels good on your hot skin so you don’t mind.

Once you feel like you can’t stomach anymore, you tap Dirk’s arm to get him to stop and allow him to lower your head again. He dabs at the water that had snuck past your lips, then returns to smoothing your hair back.

“Thank goodness for Thanksgiving break,” you croak. Right now you’re on Thanksgiving break (as of yesterday, November 11th) and it hasn’t quite started snowing a lot yet, much to your relief. You enjoy cool weather but if there’s one thing you hate, it’s driving and walking in the snow. You also appreciate the ridiculously long breaks you get, and you wonder if it’s a culinary school thing. Or perhaps it’s a senior year thing. Whatever it is, your breaks are long and amazing and your classes aren’t too stressful for you.

“Break started already?” Dirk laughs. “Damn. I remember high school; they practically didn’t let you out for break until the day before.”

You chuckle softly. Dirk hadn’t gone to college. Hadn’t needed to. Any money he would ever need comes from his brother, and on top of that, the guy’s a literal genius, _literal,_ and is said to be nearing the level of Albert Einstein himself in IQ points. You don’t believe it, of course, but you don’t dare challenge Dirk to an IQ test in fear that his sheer intelligence will set the test on fire. He’s made a few appearances in popular science magazines, and even made the cover of Time magazine once, with him and his brother being deemed the ‘sexiest men of the year’. He doesn’t like mentioning it because, while his brother basks in the spotlight of Hollywood stardom, Dirk would rather be behind the scenes, working on his robotics and making the world a better place in the shadows.

Basically Dirk Strider is perfection personified and you’re totally not jealous, not at all.

It seems that all of your friends have something going for them. Roxy’s mother is a world famous, best-selling author of novels that have been translated into hundreds and hundreds of different languages around the world. She runs her own publishing company, so nearly every penny of sales goes to her and Roxy. And even though it’s just books for cripe’s sake, their riches rival the Strider’s, and absolutely no one knows who is richer than the other. Like the Striders, both Lalondes have made the covers of magazines. Rose has made the cover of Time once.

Roxy didn’t go to college, either. She also hadn’t needed to, and you’re pretty sure her hacking skills have landed her a job in the government, but she doesn’t say a thing about it. When you ask, she always just puts a finger to her lips, so she’s probably working in some top secret division of the government that the public doesn’t know about. You also aren’t jealous of her, not one bit.

Jake English is a different story. He is a boy who needed to go to college and didn’t, so his high school maturity has stuck with him since. All you know about his financial situation is that, when his grandmother passed, he had been left with a large sum of money that basically allows him to do whatever he wants, so he’s constantly traveling. What he lacks in academic skills he makes up for with practical skills such as gator wrangling, fisticuffs, piloting, off-road driving, bear wrestling, and gunmanship. He’s made the cover of National Geographic and had a special on the Animal Channel once, and has also once been the camera man for a nature documentation called _Earth._ He has not made the cover of Time yet, but you know he’s been suggested.

Long story short: all of your friends are incredibly successful beacons in modern American culture, and here you are, working your tush off in your last year of culinary school, getting decent but not Dean’s List material grades. You made a newspaper article once for a play you did for Drama Club in elementary school. You are definitely not Time magazine material and you’re not jealous! Who said you were jealous? Because you’re not. Really.

Oh, bugger.

“Well, I was given a lot of homework for break. Filming myself making a dish, creating my own menu and including recipes for each dish… it’s a lot of work! It hardly feels like a break,” you say. Dirk smirks at you and pats your shoulder.

“I have faith in you. If anyone deserves their own bakery, it’s you.”

That small compliment shouldn’t have made you smile as much as it did. With a wide grin, you reach out and squeeze Dirk’s hand. He squeezes back. He’s still very warm.

“So you’re definitely not going to take over Betty Crocker?” Dirk asks, sitting cross-legged on the floor beside your bed and resting his folded arms on the mattress.

“Definitely,” you affirm with a nod. “You know, when I was young it really appealed to me! But now it just seems like… I can’t explain it. I’d rather make my own success than inherit it. Like you, Roxy, and Jake! All of you have something different going for you, things that you _yourselves_ have accomplished. I feel like it’d be cheating if I just took over. I want to be _Jane_ Crocker, not Betty Crocker. And my aunt is just going to have to deal with the fact that I will not be inheriting her company!”

“You’re so stubborn,” Dirk says, but there’s a smile on his face. “And for good reason. Your cupcakes are going to make you even more famous than Betty Crocker. No longer will there be the red spoon logo, it will be bright baby blue, the color of your eyes, and the name on everyone’s lips will be ‘Jane Crocker’! Syrup bottles shaped like your body will be made in your honor!”

You can’t stop laughing at Dirk’s announcer voice, so you smack his arm and try to roll away from him, only for your shoulder to be caught and your body to roll right back. He tickles you on your sides and you start giggling hysterically until you beg him to stop because oh Christ on a cracker you’re going to hurl.

Dirk holds your hair when you rush to the bathroom and vomit, apologizing the whole time for upsetting your stomach again. You finish up and rinse out your mouth before dutifully brushing your teeth, then bossily demand Strider to make you a pot of coffee. He bows to you like you’re a princess and exits to go downstairs.

It turns out that throwing up was what you kind of needed to do, so you take a quick shower, get dressed, and head downstairs with a towel folded up on top of your head. When you get into the kitchen, you find Dirk at the stove and a bowl of egg shells beside him. With knitted brows, you walk over to look into the bowl, quickly finding wasted egg yolks and whites mixed in with a dozen egg shells.

“How many eggs did you use?” you ask incredulously. Dirk gives you a helpless look and flaps his mouth. “Goodness gracious, Strider, haven’t you ever cooked an egg?”

“Look, the eggs in Egg McMuffins look nothing like this!” Dirk says, his voice defensive. You hip-check him and bump him over so you can take his place at the stove.

“You’ve made such a bloody mess, I don’t think I can salvage these,” you huff, poking at the eggs already in the pan. There are egg shells in there. Groaning, you dump the contents of the pan into the trash bin. “Strider. Two eggs, now.”

Dirk obeys immediately. If he had a tail, it’d be tucked between his legs. He hands you two eggs from the fridge and you expertly crack them into the pan.

“How do you like your eggs?” you ask, grabbing a spatula and the salt and pepper.

“Fertilized,” Dirk answers immediately with a cheeky smirk, and the glare he gets in return shuts him up. “…Sunny side up.”

You nod and with a flurry of utensils and salt and pepper and bread and butter, you’ve got a plate full to the heaping with eggs and toast. He looks rather put off when he sits down and gets his breakfast, poking sulkily at his eggs.

“What is it?” you ask, already preparing the pan for your share.

“I’m supposed to be the one taking care of you, Jane,” Dirk positively whines. You roll your eyes.

“I hardly expect a person who gets fast food for every meal of the day to be able to cook for me, much less himself. But you’re doing well with everything else, love, so don’t be so harsh on yourself.”

You hear a chuckle behind you and look over your shoulder to see Dirk resting his head on his fist and smiling at you. Squinting suspiciously, you look over the rim of your glasses at him.

“Thank you, Janey-waney, you’re the mommy I never had,” Dirk coos. You give him another roll of your eyes and turn back to the pan, where you sprinkle a bit of shredded cheese on your scrambled eggs before scraping it onto a plate and grabbing your English muffins from the toaster. Sitting down beside Dirk, you regard his half-empty plate.

“Don’t choke,” you advise as Dirk sticks out his tongue at you.

“Will you teach me how to cook sometime?” Dirk asks suddenly. You raise your eyebrows with surprise.

“Huh? Me? Teach _you_ something? That’s new.”

“Cooking requires a heart, something I am lacking,” Dirk chuckles half-jokingly. He pokes at his egg and the yolk breaks free from its thin membrane. He dips his toast in it and hums his approval. “Mmm. Yes. I could get used to this sort of food.”

“And I’m sure the trips to the bathroom to empty your bowels of all the poison you shovel into your mouth on a daily basis is much worse than putting a little effort into your meals, hm?” you ask. Dirk throws up his hands in mock surrender.

“Ouch. Sass master in the house. I’m going to need a fire hose to cool off that sick burn,” Dirk whistles. You just snort and flick a piece of egg at him. He laughs as it bounces off his shades.

 When the two of you finish breakfast, you end up in the living room, where you curl up together to watch _Sherlock Holmes_. Feeling goofy, you find your fake mustache before you start the movie and stick it to your upper lip. You give Dirk a shifty look. He gives you a noogie and then wraps the both of you up in a blanket so you’re cuddled up together.

“Gosh, I love this part,” you say, admiration in your voice as Robert Downey Jr. seemingly slows down time to analyze this round of fisticuffs before brutally beating the stuffing out of his opponent.  You’ve watched this movie enough times to recite every line of this particular scene, while Dirk dubs the lines of Sherlock’s opponent. You end up clapping your hand over his mouth to deliver the last bit of lines and he licks your palm. You smear his spit on his shirt.

There’s a sudden knock on the front door. You never tear your eyes off the screen.

“It’s open!” you call, pausing the movie as the handle turns and the door opens, revealing a very flustered-looking Jake English and a bouquet of flowers. Behind him stands Roxy, her arms crossed as she taps her foot and glares at him. You rocket out of Dirk’s arms and to your feet, hugging the blanket tightly around your body. Jake glances down and swallows hard, and with an embarrassed gasp you realize you still have the mustache on. You hastily rip it off, then hiss as it stings your upper lip. With watering eyes, you look up at Jake in confusion. “What the devil are you doing here, Jake?”

“Well I just…!” he begins. He takes a breath. “Well, you see, Roxy uh, well Miss Lalonde beat the everloving crud out of me then demanded I come apologize to you for being such a beastly arse to you, and uh. Yeah. Flowers for you?”

He glances down at the roses, which are somewhat mangled.

“I uh… I accidentally slammed them in the car door, sorry?”

“Roxy!” you exclaim, stamping your foot a little. “It isn’t that big of a deal!”

Roxy throws up her hands.

“But-”

“I didn’t want there to be a big huge fiasco, and certainly no… flowers!” you cry. “And there was no need for you to beat him!”

“She only twisted my arm a little. And… okay, I suppose a punch or two on the ol’ noggin, but that’s certainly not something that I can’t handle-” Jake says, his voice withering as you glare daggers at him.

“Just forget it!” you yell. “I’m not a pathetic little girl; I can handle a little rejection, _okay?_ ”

Roxy’s folded arms slowly loosen and fall to her sides. She gives you that pitying look that you hate oh so much.

“Oh, Jane,” she sighs.

“I get that I’m a huge bumbling idiot and I will never amount to even half of where you all are, but there’s no need to treat me like a little flower because I’m not!” you shout. You feel ridiculous as a lump forms in your throat. You always cry when you’re furious like this and it certainly doesn’t help the point you’re trying to make.

So you run as fast as you can upstairs, but not before tripping on the blanket. You dash into the bedroom and slam the door behind you. Pausing to lock the door, you furiously toss yourself onto your bed because yesterday just _had_ to leak over into today. With a shuddering sigh, you roll onto your side and clutch your pillow. Your headache is back and you can hardly stand the sound of murmuring voices downstairs. You hear footsteps on the staircase, then a gentle rap on your door.

“Jane?” a timid voice asks. Jake.

“Go away,” you call through your pillow. There’s a brief silence.

“I just wanted to say that I… was really flattered with your confession, I mean… gosh! You’re… I just… I’m sorry, Jane, it’s just… you know-”

“It’s not a big deal, Jake, I’m fine! You don’t have to worry!”

“But I do worry because… well, because it hurts me to break your heart, despite my boasting of being a heartbreaker, you know I just feel like I’ve been selfish and I can understand that you probably hate me so-”

“Jake, I don’t want to hear it!”

“-I just want to reiterate that you are like a sister to me and that I wish I could… reciprocate, and confound it I’ve tried! Downright sat down for a good hour trying to find an inkling of romantic feelings for you and-”

You cover your head with your pillow.

“-you see, it’s just I can’t see you as a girlfriend, I almost can’t even see you as a girl, you’re like one of the bros and-”

“ _SHUT UP!”_ you shriek at the top of your lungs, sitting up as you do so. Using colorful vocabulary, you call him everything under the sun and curse quite a few times before getting up to violently kick your door in an attempt to scare the idiot off. There’s a long pause before retreating footsteps can be heard. Fifteen minutes later, you know everyone’s gone when an eerie silence fills the house and you’re left alone. Sniffling slightly and fighting to hold back tears, you unlock and open your bedroom door. Finding the roses on the floor, you sniff again, scrub at your burning but dry eyes, before grabbing the bouquet off the floor and stomping downstairs. You toss the flowers and viciously step on top of them, crushing them down into the trash. Once that’s done, you go to the living room, where you find your favorite detective movie still playing. You try to flop down and watch it but you can’t stop thinking about what happened.

With a resigned sigh, you switch off the television and lie down on the couch, wishing you could just rewind the past two days and take back your stupid, worthless confession.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can follow my *writing-only* blog at http://stridemother.tumblr.com, and you can follow my *personal* blog at http://porrimicide.tumblr.com. Questions regarding the fanfiction should go to my *personal* blog only please, as I will NOT be answering any questions on my writing only blog. No Rain updates will be tagged under #norainupdates, and any discussion/fanart/etc. will be tagged under #noraininky. Please do not post in the #norain or the #no rain tag, as they are both being used! Thank you!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dave Strider is my spirit animal. Special thanks to cherryburlesque.tumblr.com and silentescapade1.tumblr.com for proofing work.

You haven’t been on the computer in weeks, and you haven’t answered any incoming calls. Instead, you have completely immersed yourself in your studies. Completing your homework in record time, you digitally send your brand new menu and end up getting a 100% on it, which lifts your mood considerably. The professor even says that he’d like to use it for future classes to use as a reference and something to aim for. Feeling very, very accomplished and happy, you allow yourself a chance to splurge.

It has started snowing now, much more frequently. It’s cold and dreary out and it’s not even _pretty_ snow, it’s wet and slushy and yucky snow that has you wearing four pairs of socks and your baby blue galoshes. Dressed up in your puffy blue winter coat with the (fake) fur-rimmed hood and mittens, you go out downtown to get some much-needed school shopping done. As it snows, you tuck your cold, reddened nose into your muffler and shiver a bit, your hands shoved in your pockets.

Goodness gracious it’s cold as the Arctic out here!

Upon seeing a café, you praise the gods and step inside, smiling with the warmth and the smell of hot chocolate. But that’s not all. There’s a quiet buzz in the little coffee shop and a lot of younger women holding up their phones to take pictures of something.

You quickly find the source. Sitting in the corner is the great Dave Strider himself, typing away furiously on his laptop as a steaming cup of coffee sits beside him. There are silent bodyguards standing around him, their hands clasped and their chests puffed up in front of him and blocking the majority of the photos being snapped.

“Mister Strider!” you call, rushing over. He doesn’t look up at first, but then something seems to click in his head and he lifts his trademark shades for a second to get a better look. The resulting scream from fangirls makes him visibly cringe.

At first, the bodyguards stop you, but Dave waves them off before standing and wrapping you up in a big hug.

“Damn, girl, you’ve gotten tall,” Dave comments before pulling away. “Just kidding, you’re still a short little squirt. Take a seat, take a seat.”

You sit down across from Dave and hide your face as best as you can from snapshots. Dave murmurs something to his bodyguards and suddenly the paparazzi and fans alike are being literally tossed out of the café until it’s just them and a few calm patrons who sneak glances at Dave now and then, but don’t act like annoying twats about his mere presence.

“What brings you up to Washington?” you ask once everything has calmed down.

“I have no fuckin’ clue, to be honest,” Dave replies, snapping his laptop shut as he turns his full attention onto you. He takes off his shades as well and you can’t help but feel pinned down by his intense, scarlet gaze. Age has done him well, unsurprisingly. The man is well in his forties, you know, but all that has done is given him a few creases around his eyes and lips that only enhances his natural handsomeness (he’s actually kind of sexy, but you would _never_ say that out loud). To be honest, you’re a huge fan of Mister Strider, so you’re kinda _sorta_ freaking out right now, but you’ve also known him since you and Dirk and the lot of you were in diapers.

“You seem a bit out of place in this miserable weather,” you say, watching as Dave waves a waitress over and orders you a hot drink. She nods enthusiastically and rushes back to prepare you a coffee. When she returns with it, you hum with delight and end up getting a cream mustache.

“I’ll say. You twerps chose a terrible place to live closer together. Why couldn’t we go to Houston, instead? Or Arizona. New Mexico. Or, you know, _California_. This state is mad cold, and not in any way that is sick, nasty, or any combination of those. I’m going to have to roast my nipples over an open fire to defrost them,” Dave rambles, going off on one of his trademark tirades. You just laugh at him. For a celebrity, he sure complains a lot. But you suppose you’re happy to see him letting his guard down around you. “So, enough about my sorry ass. What have you been up to? Married? Have a couple rascals of your own running around your house? Is your dad still drop dead gorgeous?”

“Mister Strider!” you gasp, flushing bright red. He smirks at you.

“Oh, I’m not joking. Your pops is foxy, with a capital F.”

“No, sir, I’m not married. I am quite enjoying the single life!” you say. Dave’s eyes twinkle and he winks at you as he takes a sip of his coffee.

“Good. Men are evil, don’t trust them. Do yourself a favor and marry the other kid. The pink one. Roxy. Rose’s kid,” Dave says. You can tell he hadn’t actually forgotten Roxy’s name by the way his eyes soften a little and a smile graces his lips. “Ahh, Rose. How is she, do you know?”

“You haven’t been checking up on her?” you ask with a grin. “That’s surprising.”

“Hellll no,” Dave says in a way that has you laughing again. “Rose is the one broad in the world who scares me, and _I’ve_ met Taylor Swift. Don’t be fooled by her innocent act, missy. She’s a shark in the water.”

“Well, Miss Lalonde is doing well. Maybe a little lonely,” you say suggestively. Dave’s eyebrows shoot up.

“That’s a big fat lie and you know it, Crocker. I should report you to your father. Bad Jane,” he lectures, smacking your wrist gently. Your smile hurts your cheeks it’s so wide. “If there’s one thing Lalonde isn’t, it’s lonely. She’s probably watching right now, that sneaky bitch.”

“Who’s a sneaky bitch, now?”

Dave jumps out of his skin, his shades falling down from his hair to the tip of his nose before sliding off and hitting his chin. You stiffen and look up to see Rose Lalonde herself, standing tall and poised. The bodyguards are even cowering. Her hair is straightened to perfection, lying perfectly against her bejeweled ears. She’s wearing a fancy suit jacket and a pencil skirt with pumps that shouldn’t even be possible to walk in.

“Rose,” Dave says, getting to his feet and shoving his hands in his pockets. He draws himself to his full height, a few inches higher than Rose, even with her high heels.

“Strider,” Rose says. There’s a sparkle in her eye. “What could you possibly be doing to this poor, defenseless young woman? Surely you’re not trying to put ideas in her head, hm? And what’s this about sneaky bitches?”

Her voice is calm and pleasantly smooth, but there’s something monstrous underlying her words. You just grip your coffee cup, but Dave gives an easy smirk. You can’t tell if he’s terrified or not.

“Don’t play coy, Miss Lalonde, we all know you are a devil in disguise,” Dave says. In an instant, Rose’s hand is by his face and he’s trying to snatch up her wrist, but she’s too quick for even him. She takes off his shades and his eyes are nothing but soft beneath those mirrored glasses, not frightened in the least. You begin to think if Dave’s just trying to save face when he claims he’s afraid of the famous novelist.

“Very true, Mister Strider,” Rose purrs, fiddling with Dave’s shades for a moment. “Are you quite done acting like a fool and wearing these hideous sunglasses? It’s been years, darling, perhaps it’s time to put away your grade school toys and join the adult world like the rest of us.”

The remaining patrons in the café murmur among themselves in response to Rose’s biting sass. Dave’s eyebrows arch, and he seems to forget his shades aren’t shielding his eyes at the moment. Quite suddenly you are quite sure he’s giving her bedroom eyes and oh my goodness you should not be watching this so intently!

“Maybe that’s true for an old hag like you, but unlike you, I still have a few years left before I go senile,” Dave bites right back. The low murmur has become several ‘oohs’ and ‘oh shit, son’ from a frat boy in the corner.

“You are a child, Strider.”

“Hag.”

“Hollywood flash in the pan.”

“Librarian.”

“If Comedy Central roasted you, you’d wet your britches and cry before Gilbert Gottfried could carve into you.”

“J.K. Rowling wannabe.”

“… _Adam Sandler_ _clone_.”

Dave gasps sharply and the café goes silent.

“You take that back, you fucking banshee,” Dave hisses. Rose smiles triumphantly and presses Dave’s shades into his chest. He takes them and glares icily at Rose, who only dismisses him with a condescending flip of her hand and goes to the counter, where the barista trembles as she hands Rose a cup of black coffee.

When she’s gone, Dave exhales and flops down into his seat, clutching his heart through his button up shirt.

“Oh, sweet baby Jesus,” Dave breathes. “Be still, my palpitating heart.”

“You seem quite love-stricken, Mister Strider,” you say. Dave gives you a look and puts his shades on the table. He had nearly crushed them in his fist.

“Love-stricken? Fuck no, this is what I look like when I go into cardiac arrest,” Dave says. He shuts his eyes briefly before opening them again. They’re soft and vulnerable and glazed over. Swallowing heavily, he glances at you. “And it just so happens that the only time I go into cardiac arrest is when I’m balls deep in love.”

You have to physically stop yourself from squealing. Dave almost painfully turns himself fully towards you. His hands are shaking as he picks up his coffee cup.

“You have it so bad,” you sigh dreamily, resting your chin in your palms. Dave rolls his eyes and shrugs before setting his empty cup down with a satisfied sigh.

“I hate it when you damn Crockers are right,” Dave groans. “Your grandpa would be having a fit right now, bless his dorky soul.”

Dave looks whimsical for a split moment before breaking it to wave the waitress down for another coffee. You sit in silence for a while, twiddling your thumbs.

“Benjamin for your thoughts?” Dave asks, sliding a hundred dollar bill across the table. You shriek and chuck it back at him.

“Stop that!” you squeal. Dave laughs.

“That used to piss you off so good. And then Roxy would just take the hundred and steal my wallet, that little klepto,” Dave laughs. You shake your head. “But seriously. What’s on your mind, kiddo?”

“Well…” you trail off. “You’re in love with Rose, right?”

“More or less. It’s a love-hate relationship. On one side I want to strangle her and on the other side I want to kiss her into next week. But, to make it short, yes, I am.”

 “And… you’ve been best friends for a long time,” you continue slowly. “I’m dreadfully curious… how could you fall in love with someone you’ve known since you were a little kid? Isn’t it strange?”

Dave scratches the stubble on his chin and ponders that for a while.

“I suppose it was, at first. But we rationalized it. How well we fit together. How we make a pretty fuckin’ rad couple, to be blunt. The ‘razzi would cream their fuckin’ shorts if they saw us together with rings on our fingers. So maybe it’s kind of an ironic thing, too. We love pulling those shit flies around on a leash. At first it was just… two friends making an agreement. And then somewhere along the way we went and tripped into a massive pile of elephant shit. In other words, we fell in love. It just… _was_. We understand each other. And hell, she’s like a sister to me, and my best friend, and now I want her to be my wife. Maybe it’s just the Southern stereotype in me, wanting to get all incestuous with my sister from another mister. She’s not my sister, of course, but after all these years, it sure damn well feels like it. Also she annoys the shit out of me. She completes me.”

You smile at the happy look on Dave’s face and, no matter how much he tries to hide it, it still shines through in his eyes. After a moment, he clears his throat and slouches in his chair, putting his hands in his pockets.

“What brought that up anyway?” Dave asks. You laugh a bit nervously. “Spill it, kid.”

“Well, perhaps I maybe just _kinda_ turned twenty-one so I thought I was confident enough to go ahead and tell this guy about my feelings and he-”

“Who is this guy?”

“It’s Jake English.”

Dave reaches up to whip off his shades, only to realize they’re already off. He puts them on again just to whip them off, then leans forward.

“You mean, the kid who played with my little bro’s heart and then dumped him, Jake English?”

“I’m afraid so.”

Dave sighs loudly and leans back again.

“Jane, Jane, Jane. A boy like that isn’t ready for a woman like you. If you’re looking for the father of your puppies, you’re going to need a man, not a _boy_.”

“Puppies?!” you ask, your face turning beet red.

“Oh yeah,” Dave says, nodding sagely. “Isn’t it mating season for you little whippersnappers yet?”

You’re about to protest when Dave’s phone buzzes. He looks at the caller ID and grimaces, then gives you an apologetic look. You mouth ‘go ahead’, and he silently thanks you before bringing the phone to his ear.

“Y’ello?” he asks, then winces and holds the phone away from him, rolling his eyes. He slowly brings it back to his ear after a moment. “I told you I was going out. No. Bro, your unironic concern for my well-being is making my heart beat a mile a minute. I’m at the coffee shop, downtown. Yeah. Yeah, yup. I know. Dude. No, dude, shut your fucking mouth, I’m with Jane.”

A pause.

“What do you mean is she okay? She’s just fine and dandy. Extra emphasis on the fine. Dirk, why aren’t you balls deep in this prime lady yet?”

Dave holds the phone away from his ear again and you can briefly hear Dirk shouting on the other end.

“Calm down, man,” Dave says. “Damn, Washington has changed you. What’s with all of this actual inflection in your voice? Did Janey beat it out of you? That’s so amazing, you two should get married. Holy shit, stop yelling in my ear, damn. I’m sorry, Jesus. Yes. Yes, I’m coming home soon. Right. Yeah, bye. Nope. Bye. _Bye._ ”

Dave hangs up firmly and groans.

“I don’t even know why I come up to see him. He lives in a place where it’s so cold that my dick is practically coming out of my nose it’s receding so far into my body, and on top of that the little shit acts like he’s my mother and insists on knowing exactly where I am every five minutes. He seems to forget that it was _me_ wiping his poopy ass when he was in diapers,” Dave says. You giggle. He’s definitely pouting.

Dave downs the rest of his coffee, now lukewarm at best, and gets to his feet.

“Well, it was nice seeing you again, Jane,” Dave says genuinely, giving you a wink before sliding his shades back onto his face. You reach out to shake his hand, but he pulls you into his arms. He’s warm like Dirk, and you can’t help but snuggle into his chest. He squeezes you briefly then pulls away, still holding you by the shoulders. “Hey, and keep my asshole brother in check when I’m gone. He needs someone like you in his life.”

“I always do, Mister Strider,” you say with a smile. Dave grins back and hugs you again.

“If Dirk was with someone half as awesome as you, he’d be the happiest man in the world,” Dave says, patting your back. “And that’s a cold hard fact, squirt. I’ll catch you later, yeah?”

“Sure,” you say. Dave gives you a wave before his bodyguards help him into his jacket. Paparazzi have gathered outside, and Dave is sure to lead them well away from the building before you emerge.

Outside, it’s raining again, and the droplets are cold as ice on you as you get a few droplets on your scalp. Shivering, you pull your hood up and decide against continuing your shopping trip today. It’s much too cold and miserable out for that. But your visit with Dave has warmed you up considerably. Like always, you’re walking away with a piece of advice. No matter how shielded that advice is with irony and overall idiocy, it’s still advice.

If you want a relationship, you’re going to have to find a man, not a boy. A man…

You suppose Jake is… man _ly,_ but everything else is boy, from his forced accent to his silly obsession with movies. You don’t think you know anybody manly. Besides your father, of course, but perhaps that’s too much mangrit. You certainly do not want someone too much like your father. You want someone who you can depend on for some things. But also someone who can depend on _you_ for some things, too. Someone who can be your best friend _and_ your boyfriend. Someone… someone like…

Michael Cera.

Your thoughts lead you to that goofy face of the guy who only knows how to play the awkward hopeless romantic in movies, a man who Dave Strider loathes unironically, and you burst into laughter in the middle of the sidewalk. When people look at you, you cough and hurry to your car, where you ignite the engine and drive off as soon as you can.

While your thoughts linger on Striders, Dirk is suddenly dominating the majority of the images, from his toned back to his gaunt, handsome face with the harsh angles of his jaw and those searing amber eyes. And then you see him laughing like a dork and you see that one time he accidentally snorted when he laughed and claimed he had a cold, then the time he held you while you cried after ruining your first attempt at a confession to Jake when you were sixteen. The night holds a special place in your heart, because it wasn’t long before him and Jake started seeing each other. He had still held you close, even though he himself had been pining for Jake that entire time.

In a moment you realize who, exactly, had actually been there for you this entire time, and the results keep turning up Dirk Strider, Dirk Strider, _Dirk Strider_ you idiot.

The realization nearly makes you slam on your brakes, but you sigh shakily and pull off to the side of the road to collect yourself. Resting your head on the steering wheel, you clutch at your beating heart before leaning back and shaking your head.

Dear lord.

Dirk Strider is officially the ideal man, and you can’t even have him because he only sees you as a sister. What a pleasant revelation.

“Oh, jiminy,” you sigh, feeling sorry for yourself again. Of course. He had said it himself, that night you had been drunk off your rockers. He only sees you as a sister, like Jake. On top of that, nobody knows his sexuality, whether he’s straight or gay or some crazy weird sexuality like robot-sexual.

You recover after a moment and shake your head. It’s not like you’re in love with him, for cripe’s sake! The thought of kissing him makes you shudder with discomfort. The two of you have too much history, and he is as much of a brother to you as you are a sister to him. And that’s that. Final! Over! No more!

You nod to yourself determinedly. Yes. This is all just a stupid mixture of jumbled thoughts and feelings that will never, ever come to life. Ever. _Ever._

But even as you shift into drive and continue down the road, you can feel that familiar, dreadful ache forming in the center of your chest.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to thank you all very much for following this story so far! I am very pleased with the feedback and would love more as the story progresses. Please feel free to leave your feedback in the comments section, along with any suggestions you may have regarding characterization or plot. Thanks again!

You kind of become a hermit for a while after that, working your buns off in order to study effectively for your upcoming finals and end the semester on a strong note. You spend many nights in front of the fireplace, studying and making flashcards and reading textbooks and doing all you can to prepare. It’s a few weeks before the exams start, but there’s nothing wrong with getting some things done ahead of time!

Your father is very supportive and often cooks you big meals to ‘feed your brain’. You love your father’s Korean dishes, even if your Korean heritage is from your late mother, and your American heritage is from your father. He does what he can to follow the recipes to the mark, and he really knows his spices. A look of relief always floods his face when you compliment his dishes, and he too seems to enjoy them. They’re warm and homely and it puts you _there_ , even though you’ve never even been to Korea. You’d like to visit one day and see the culture and cuisine they have to offer.

But for now, you enjoy your father’s attempts to get you good and ready for your exams.

You’re halfway through a cup of hot chocolate with your legs folded underneath the coffee table when there’s a knock on the door. Feeling a bit skeptical about letting anyone in right now, you pause and consider your options. You _could_ get up to see who it is, but with the heating vent underneath the coffee table, you’re already so warm…

Oh, what the heck.

“It’s open!” you call, turning back to your flashcards. The door opens slowly and you glance up. You’re both relieved and surprised to see Dirk standing in the doorway, dressed in all of his winter clothes and shivering. You scramble to your feet and dash to the door. “Goodness gracious, Strider, come in before you freeze to death!”

You pull him in and close the door against the cold winter wind. His scarf is wet from the snow, so you peel it off of him, hang it up, then take his coat from him and instruct him to take off his snow-covered shoes. Luckily, the snow doesn’t seem to have reached his pant-legs, so you pull him in before he steps on a wet spot in his socks.

“What are you doing here? I’d imagine you’d be cooped up in your apartment, hugging a radiator,” you tease. Dirk sniffs. His nose is red. He has a very prominent nose, like his brother. You like it. “Can I get you some hot chocolate? Tea?”

“Hot chocolate is fine,” Dirk says. His nose sounds stuffed up. You frown.

“Are you sick?”

“No,” he says miserably. “But it’s cold as balls out there. My nipples hurt it’s so cold.”

You nod understandingly and take him to the kitchen, where you make him a cup of hot cocoa and give it to him. Still sniffing and shaking, he huddles up with his hot drink and you sympathetically rub his sweater-clad back. He’s donned in one of those god-awful old lady sweaters with red sequins and an embroidered Santa Claus on the front. He’s such a dork, and you tell him that. You only get an indignant sniffle in response, followed by a loud slurp of his hot chocolate.

“You never answered my question,” you say, topping off his hot chocolate one more time before leading him to the living room and inviting him to sit across from you. He seems to appreciate the warmth of the heater and the two of you tangle your feet together to get at that heat. Dirk tips his head at you. “What brings you here on this cold and dreary Washington day?”

“I wanted to come see you,” he says, which makes your heart skip a beat. Swallowing, you focus on your flashcards and tuck a stray lock of curly hair up in your bobby pin.

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?”

“I’ve been worried. Roxy thinks you’re angry with her and Jake thinks you hate him and they’ve been whining at me to come see you to clarify that no anger or hate is coming out of dear, sweet Janey.”

“No, no, of course not!” you exclaim. “Sure, I was a little sour with Jake, but that was weeks ago. I simply do not like being pitied and treated like a porcelain doll. I am a strong, independent woman, Dirk!”

“And you don’t need no man?”

“You’re darn tootin’ I don’t! There are plenty of worse things in this world that could happen to me. It’s no use to dwell on the past,” you say. Dirk frowns.

“But Jane, this is like… a five, six year thing you had for Jake. You can let it go just like that?” Dirk asks, leaning his chin on his hand. You shrug.

“It still stings and it’ll probably sting for a while! But the fact of the matter is… being rejected made me sort of realize that maybe Jake isn’t the type of person I need. He’s a boy, when I’d rather have a man,” you admit. Saying this out loud to Dirk is dreadfully embarrassing and, blushing, you clear your throat and straighten out your freshly made flashcards. Dirk nods, then laughs. “What is it, Strider?”

“Nothin’. It’s just that my bro says the same thing to me. Ironically, about Jake. He said that Jake is still a boy and he’s not a man yet and all of that shit. Actually, did my brother tell _you_ that?”

You pause for a full moment before bursting into laughter and shaking your head.

“Yes, indeed Mister Strider did say that! He’s so friggin’ strange.”

“That doesn’t even cover half of it,” Dirk sighs. “The day he left to go back to L.A. he punched me in the dick and gave me a wet willy before kissing my forehead and running out of the room, like a cartoon character. Dead serious. The guy is in no position to give any good, sound advice.”

“I thought his advice was quite well-said!” you protest. Dirk gives you a look, and you can just barely see his eyes through his shades giving you an exasperated stare.

“Really? You think his suggestion for us to get married and have babies was good, sound advice?” Dirk asks. You pause a little too long.

“Well, you are successful!” you offer up weakly. Dirk just snorts.

“Me? Please, Jane. I have no business in raising a child. I am just as qualified to raise a baby as Dave is to raise a pet goldfish. In other words, not gonna happen, dude,” Dirk says with finality. “And hell, maybe I’d like to settle down one day but the only thing I want to have responsibility for is my stupid mangy cat and my robots. Perhaps I’ll build myself a robot spouse. Sprobot.”

You giggle a bit and shake your head.

“Perhaps you’ll change your mind one day?” you ask. Dirk grimaces.

“Jane, I’m a twenty-two year old man swimming in riches and very much content with my life as of now. I think my days of huge decision making are over.”

“Knock on wood,” you say, wagging your finger. Dirk rolls his eyes.

“I don’t believe in superstition.”

“Suit yourself,” you say with a shrug. You sigh and give up trying to study right now with Dirk in the room. “Would you like to watch a movie?”

“Hell yes.”

* * *

When you’ve finished the movie, Dirk is passed out on the couch on his back, one arm raised over his head and the other resting peacefully just below his ribcage. You get up from the couch slowly as to not disturb him before draping a blanket over his body and gently taking off his shades. You set them aside so he can find them when he wakes up, then you take a moment to gaze down at him.

You’d say something like he’s peaceful when he sleeps, but he just looks like normal Dirk Strider with his eyes shut. His brows are twitching and knitting together almost constantly, as if he’s dreaming up new blueprints for his next project. His mouth hangs open and he snores either from lack of sleep or his current position, and every so often the nostrils of his beaky nose flare and cause him to sort of choke on a snore, smack his lips, and groan. Boldly, you reach down and touch his face, smoothing down those eyebrows and trying to calm the torrent of information that’s probably stopping him from taking a proper nap. It seems to help a little and his eyebrows slowly stop twitching and his nose stops flaring. He relaxes significantly, but a moment later his eyelids flutter and he looks blearily up at you.

It should’ve made you snatch your hand back. But this is Dirk Strider, your best friend, and you just smile as you continue smoothing his eyebrows. He looks at you for a few moments before his eyes drift shut again and you give him an affectionate pat on his cheek. Murmuring something, Dirk’s lips twitch and he turns his body partway, effectively stopping his snoring.

With Dirk getting some rest, you pad into the kitchen, where you start preparing dinner. Your father will be home any moment, so you make something quick and simple. Boxed macaroni and cheese, a microwaveable bag of steamed veggies, and leftover chicken breast is what comes to mind.

What? You certainly can’t make a feast built for a king every night, and your brain is too fried to make anything special.

Your father comes home just as you’re heating up the chicken breast and you stand in the doorway of the kitchen, silently waving at him and putting your finger to your lips. You point to Dirk and Dad nods before tiptoeing into the kitchen.

“What is Mister Strider doing on our couch?” he asks softly as you pull down three plates from the cupboard and set them out on the countertop.

“He wanted to pay me a visit, is all,” you reply with an easy, casual shrug. Your dad stands there for a while, looking into the living room with those wise blue eyes and scratching his chin.

“He’s a kind boy, don’t you think?” Dad muses. You glance at him and get back to spooning up macaroni and cheese.

“Yes, of course… when he’s not building something. He is downright beastly when you pester him while he’s working!”

“Yes, yes, that is an understandable reason to become agitated,” Dad continues, now thoughtfully stroking his small beard and making you give him a suspicious look. “But, overall, a very kind young man, very kind. And handsome.”

“Dad…”

“You know-”

“Oh for heaven’s sake.”

“You know, perhaps he could be a suitable bachelor for a lovely young woman such as yourself-”

“Dad!” you cry before catching yourself and glancing over to make sure Dirk is still asleep. “Oh my goodness, you’re just like Mister Strider!”

Dad looks confused for a moment.

“Mister Strider? I say, I don’t believe I’m like him much at all, I certainly haven’t built anything worth being on the cover of the tabloids for-”

You roll your eyes.

“No. No, Dad. N-… I mean, Mister _Dave_ Strider. The older Strider? Famous superstar Dave Strider? He was telling me that Dirk and I would make a good couple, too.”

“Ohhh,” Dad says, nodding sagely. “Yes, he’d be the ideal bachelor too, if not for his age.”

As your father produces a pipe from seemingly out of nowhere, you groan and turn away, plating up the rest of dinner and putting a plate in your father’s hands.

“You must’ve had a busy day at work, so for goodness sake, just sit down and eat!” you demand. Dad just smiles at your bossiness and obediently pulls up a chair before sitting down.

“You’re so headstrong and stubborn just like your mother was, my dear, I am so, so proud of you.”

You just sigh loudly at him and start towards the living room.

“I suppose you don’t believe me when I say that Mister Strider would make an excellent son-in-law. Your mother had trouble believing things, too. You’re becoming more like her every day.”

The look you give him over your shoulder will have him seeing nothing but ‘Exasperated Jane Crocker’ for the next decade of his life.

“Eat your veggies, Dad,” you instruct. He just smiles knowingly at you before you go into the living room and step over to the couch. Leaning down, you gently shake Dirk’s shoulder. “Dirk. Diiiirk. Strider. Howard Stark would like to see you now.”

Dirk awakens with a loud snort and looks around wildly before his glazed-over eyes rest upon yours. You smile cheekily down at him and he pouts.

“Don’t tempt me, woman. You know I’d marry that man in a heartbeat if he was real.”

“Dinner’s ready,” you laugh. Dirk nods and closes his eyes for a few more seconds until he sits up and stretches.

“How long was I out?” he asks. You glance at your wrist, pretending there’s a watch there.

“About four days,” you tease. Dirk purses his lips at you.

“If this is you trying to prank me, you need a lot of practice.”

He chuckles as you smack him upside the head.  You reach down to grab his shades off the coffee table and hand them to him dramatically.

“Your anime shades, your dorkiness,” you say in a fake, deep voice. “Now come on, dinner’s getting cold.”

“Sure thing, Miss Bossypants,” Dirk says, earning a look. He’s too used to your looks to be affected by it anymore.

Dinner goes by smoothly, with your dad (thankfully) dropping only mild hints at Dirk. Dirk doesn’t seem to realize the motives behind your dad’s vague and rambly statements because he’s too busy tucking in to his chicken and mac and cheese. He firmly avoids the vegetables. Your irritation meter is already full to the brim, so you don’t bother lecturing him about it. The man should be feasting on lobster tail and truffles for a mid-day snack and all he can be arsed to do is drive to the nearest Arby’s and pick up a bag of heart attacks waiting to happen. Yet he’s thin, scarily thin, which doesn’t suit his broad build at all. He’s got wide, strong shoulders but then his waist is sharply narrow and his ribs show when he stretches. You wonder just how much the man eats and how often as you worry your lip between your prominent front teeth. You can just imagine him losing himself in his work and ‘forgetting’ to eat for a few days, and it worries you. What if he has an eating disorder? What if he’s terminally ill?!

“Yo. Jane.”

You look up from your plate at Dirk, who just smirks back at you.

“Take a photo, it’ll last longer.”

“Was I staring?” you ask with a click of your tongue and a sigh. “Crumbs.”

“Yeah. Staring affectionately at your peas and carrots like a maiden in love,” Dirk says whimsically. Even with his shades on you can see the glint in his eyes. “I half expected you to put an engagement ring on it.”

“Alright, alright, wise guy,” you snap, wagging your finger at him and making him chuckle and ruffle his own hair in a fantastically attractive way. What? No, you didn’t think that. Stop Jane. Bad Jane. “Perhaps I was staring at them so lovingly because they’re getting absolutely _no_ love from you! Look at that, your veggies are untouched. You don’t get dessert until you finish those vegetables, young man.”

“What’s for dessert?” Dirk asks suspiciously.

“Secret. Eat your peas.”

“It’s your Crocker Cupcakes isn’t it.”

“…Yes.”

You laugh loudly as Dirk ferociously wolves down his vegetables like it’s the end of the world, then looks at you expectantly as he chews with his hand outstretched.

“Oh, goodness, I wasn’t aware that it’s cupcake night,” Dad says, lowering his newspaper and grinning at you past the glow of the bowl of his pipe. “I didn’t know you made any.”

“I didn’t, I just wanted Dirk to eat his veggies.”

Dirk looks like a puppy that was kicked before tossed out to play in traffic. He struggles to swallow the mass of chewed-up vegetable in his mouth before whipping off his shades in a Dave-like fashion and squinting at you.

“Miss Crocker,” he murmurs. Oh. Oh goodness. His voice is low and rumbling and good golly gracious a warm weight is settling in the pit of your stomach and are you blushing? No you are not blushing haha oh my. Oh boy. “I want my damn cupcake fix.”

You just sort of nod and clear your throat before standing and scraping the chicken bones off of your plate and into the trash before setting it in the sink. You know your dad is looking at you knowingly and you hate thinking about that. Luckily for you, Dirk may think he’s this perceptive, wondrous man with a knack for knowing another person’s thoughts, but in actuality his awareness can be just as terrible as Jake’s sometimes.

“We’ll make them together, then,” you say. Your voice cracks. Like, actually cracks in half. Haa haa, hoo hoo, who said you were aroused? You’re not aroused. Nobody’s aroused! Certainly not you.

“Then I’ll leave you two to it,” Dad says cheerfully, as if he has accomplished some imaginary feat. You look over your shoulder at him and he looks at Dirk like he’s his son. You’re tempted to toss a spoon at his stupid old head.

“Are we really going to make them together?”

Suddenly his voice is right behind you and you gasp sharply and nearly drop the mixing bowl you had been pulling out of the cupboard. You look over your shoulder and there he is, reaching up past your head to pull down the sugar.

“You need sugar, correct?” he asks, holding the bag haphazardly. Suddenly the awkwardness leaves you in a rush and you give him a patented Jane Crocker look.

“What? Strider, I thought you were smarter than this. Of course you need sugar. What do you think all desserts are _made_ of?”

“Sugar free pudding doesn’t have sugar in it.”

“Well Crocker Cupcakes are most certainly not sugar free!”

“Alright, jeez, no need to get sassy with me.”

“I’m not being sassy!”

“You are the sassiest sass queen on the planet, Crocker.”

Playful banter ensues and everything calms down again. Your weird arousal thing is long forgotten and soon replaced with your usual prankster’s gambit. So when you secretly tie a rubber band around the sprayer on the kitchen sink and instruct Dirk to fill a measuring cup with water, you get a kick out of the split second of confusion on his face as he’s sprayed right in the chest. You don’t even blink when he rips off his sweater and looks down at his white undershirt, which is wet in the front and partially transparent. It’s not strange to you, because this is your precious brother and best friend you’re messing around with and playing jokes on.

Of course, it gets strange when Dirk takes off his undershirt just as your father walks in and sees you with flour on your cheeks and Dirk with rivulets of water dripping down his bare, toned chest. Your father doesn’t even slow down as he makes a U-turn and walks right back out again and into the living room.

You and Dirk glance at each other before bursting out into laughter.

After that, everything is normal and the cupcakes are finished. You let Dirk be his usual weird self and put orange food coloring into the cream cheese frosting so the tops of the cupcakes are bright orange instead their usual blue. Once they’re finished, you don’t even have a chance to bring the tray to your father before Dirk’s snatching up two of them at the speed of sound and stuffing them in his mouth. You try to turn and scold him but he’s impossibly fast and ends up grabbing two more while your back is turned. You slap his wrists once he stops running around and being a blur of color, and he just smiles at you with stuffed cheeks and frosting on the corner of his lip.

You deliver a couple cupcakes to your dad in the living room, where he is reclining in his arm chair and looking tired. You also give him a glass of warm milk and then kiss his forehead. He looks happy in a tired, wise old man way, and you smile as you retreat back to the kitchen.

“Thanks for stopping by today,” you say, watching Dirk lean against the counter and lick the frosting off of his fifth cupcake. He shrugs.

“I was concerned,” he admits. “I know how you get around exam time and sometimes you forget to take care of yourself. It reminds me of myself and I don’t like that.”

It’s moments like these that you get a rare glimpse into the head of Dirk Strider, your usually cheerful best friend. Back when you were younger, Dirk had a stage in his life where he had trouble properly expressing himself and hid his emotions dutifully, like some sort of robot. Back then, you and he hadn’t been as close, either. Even today, his lone visit with you is a tad strange because you don’t normally get one-on-one time with him. It’s certainly isn’t unwelcome, however.

It had been hard to believe at first, when Roxy had told you about him during one of her more sober nights. She told you about how Dirk Strider, your happy, teasing best friend, would sit alone in his apartment, rimming a shot glass with his thumb with a bottle of alcohol beside him, bathed in the abnormally bright light of his work station. You simply can’t see Dirk being that miserable and self loathing and… lonely. To a point, you still don’t quite believe Roxy, but at times like these you can see through those shades and through those careful, calculating eyes and straight into his soul, and you can see that there is hurt inside of him that not even Roxy can reach.

“I don’t know, a day of being the sexiest man of the year would be fun, I think,” you say, trying to lighten the suddenly heavy mood. It works, and Dirk offers you a smirk and a snort.

“Being on the cover of Time is not as glamorous as you’d think,” he says. “And when you’re on the cover of Time, you’re on the cover of People, too, and that’s no rollercoaster. They called my brother fat and he went on an all-ice diet for six months. Ended up having to go to the hospital within three weeks because he’s a fucking idiot. Rose sure gave him an earful and now if you ask him not to eat for two seconds he’ll throw a temper tantrum. He believes he’s the master of not giving a shit but you’d be surprised at how much he cares about his appearance in the public’s eye.”

Dirk’s rambling about his brother turns the dial on the mood back to ‘normal’ and you relax. You know he loves his brother with the way his obvious concern for him shines through the exasperated shell he tries to guard himself with. It’s cute.

“I can believe it,” you admit. Dirk gives you a surprised look and you roll your eyes. “What? There are some things I _can_ believe, you know.”

“Stop the presses.”

“ _Anyway_. I feel a trifle shameful for not completing my studying for today. I hope it doesn’t set me back too far,” you say worriedly. Dirk grins.

“Jane, you worry too much. You’re a cooking prodigy,” he says. “Don’t sweat it. And hey. Let’s make a deal. If you pass, the four of us are going to go out and we’re going to get drunk in your honor. I can have one of my guards be our chauffeur, so nobody has to be a designated driver.”

“You know,” you say slowly. A smile graces your lips. “That doesn’t sound half bad. I accept your offer. If I get all _A_ s, then the drinks are on you!”

“Deal.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shots shots shot shots shots shots
> 
> everyboDAY
> 
> [special thanks to cherryburlesque.tumblr.com and silentescapade1.tumblr.com for proofing work]

You don’t score all _A_ s. You do, however, score three _B_ s and two _A_ s after passing all of your exams and finishing the semester off with a bang like you had hoped. Christmas break starts on December 14th and is scheduled to end on January 9th, giving you plenty of time to relax and regroup after such a strenuous second-to-last semester of your college career.

Dirk holds his promise, of course, and also says that _B_ s are just _A_ s in disguise so he’ll pay for drinks. What a gentleman.

Now, you and Roxy are getting ready together at her house, giggling like middle school girls as Roxy accidentally smears some mascara on her nose. The fight from the month before is long forgiven and forgotten. It was a petty, trivial little disagreement anyway. Besides, you’d much rather spend time with her like this rather than stay angry with her.

She’s dressed in a short skirt and a tube top and knee-high boots and goodness, do you wish you could pull off clothes like that. In fact, you feel a tad silly wearing jeans and a sensible top.

“I wish I could dress like that,” you sigh. Roxy looks at you, not missing a beat as she applies bronzer to her pale cheeks.

“Why the frick can’t you dress like this?” she asks, furrowing her plucked eyebrows. You shrug.

“Well, it doesn’t suit me too well, I don’t think.”

“You’re riddy-diddy-donkulous, Crockerdoodle,” Roxy says in a sing-song voice. You eye her pre-party glass of cake-flavored vodka and give her a look. “You can dress in whatevs. Like, you should go to the club in a feather boa and a hula skirt and I’d be just like. Damn gurl. What a hot babe.”

“Well, I just feel a little underdressed, is all.”

“You brought some other stuff, right?” Roxy asks, capping her makeup and passing you as she leaves the bathroom. She goes to the bag you brought with you and digs in it. “Oh my gosh, Janey. Why are you wearing that instead of this?”

“Well,” you begin. You shrug sheepishly. “I guess I was confident at home, but when I got here, I decided against it.”

Roxy pulls out a knit sweater dress followed by your boots.

“You mean you were about to go to a club in jeans and a tee and sneakers instead of these sexy boots?!”

“Those are plain boots, thank you very much,” you say. “Plus it’s much too cold for that…”

“You won’t be cold for long,” Roxy says, winking dramatically. “Winky-wink-wonk. You’re going to give Jake the biggest boner.”

“Rox…” you sigh. Roxy shoves the sweater dress and boots in your arms.

“Look, girl, I’m not going to lie to you,” Roxy says. “I get super jelly of you when you get to wear clothes like this! I’m flat as a washboard and all skin and bones and you are perfect, like, you have boobies that are, like, proportionate to your body. And just the right amount of curve. I wish I could pull off a one-piece like this.”

You pout as Roxy addresses you with a genuine look in her eyes.

“You being all self conscious like this and then not believing me when I say you’re beautiful breaks my little heart!” Roxy says, her lip beginning to wibble. You groan.

“Fine, fine!” you say. Roxy squeals and claps her hands and jumps up and down. “Fine. I’ll change!”

With that, you go into the bathroom and strip out of your jeans and shirt before pulling the sweater dress over your head. You look at your reflection in the mirror and adjust the turtleneck before turning and looking over your shoulder at yourself. Okay. Okay, you think you can work with this.

You emerge from the bathroom again and Roxy stares at you for a second before making a lewd gesture at her crotch.

“I have a giant boner right now,” Roxy says. You flush and hide your face, feeling silly again.

“Roxy!” you cry while Roxy bounds forward, smacks your bottom, then squeezes a butt cheek. You jump out of her reach and nearly trip over your feet.

“I told you this looks good on you!” Roxy cries, gesturing to you wildly. “Look at you, _damn!_ ”

“Okay, okay!” you say. “You’re right and I’m wrong, okay? For heaven’s sake.”

But you look in a mirror again and you can’t help but admit you do look good, with smooth, lush thighs and a tapered waist and an arse that fills out your sweater dress quite nicely. You’d never admit that to Roxy, though.

You pull on your boots, which are up to your knees like Roxy’s but have less heel to them. You’re not too keen on coming home with sore, blistered feet. Roxy’s used to it, but you don’t often get out to go to clubs.

Just as you’re putting on your last spritz of hair spray, there’s a honk outside. You and Roxy grin at each other before heading towards the front door. Rose is out tonight (you assume she’s with Dave and Roxy thinks she’s just off gallivanting about) so the two of you don’t bother being quiet as you pound down the stairs and run outside.

Of course Dirk went all out and got a long black limo, which makes Roxy scream with delight and makes you groan. It was just exams!

Roxy runs forward and the door opens for her, courtesy of Jake, who grins big and wide for the two of you. Roxy dives in but you are careful to get in without tracking in snow or inadvertently giving your friends a panty shot. The door closes behind you and you rub your arms to warm up. Luckily, the car isn’t too cold at all.

Dirk and Jake are lounging in the leather seats, with Jake looking giddy like a little kid and Dirk looking content at best. He’s wearing his usual shades, of course, and is dressed in black from head to toes, except for his neon orange tie. In any other case, he’d look like a walking Halloween costume, but gosh darn it you’re thinking about how attractive he is again. You look away, blushing slightly, as you fiddle with the hem of your dress.

“You two look nice,” Dirk says after a while. Jake jerks his head up and down enthusiastically.

“I must agree with Strider, the two of you look rather dashing tonight! Er, perhaps that’s not the best word, you’re…”

“Downright sexy,” Dirk offers. You light up like a Christmas tree and look down.

“Precisely! Downright sexy, if I could say so myself,” Jake agrees. You feel a nudge on your side from Roxy and you nearly jump out of your skin.

“Yes! Thank you, Jirk!” you blurt. Jake tilts his head and Dirk just raises a brow over his shades. You’re blushing to the tips of your ears now. “I mean Dake! I mean. Dirk. And Jake. Thanks. For the compliment. ”

You just put your head in your hands to hide the redness of your cheeks while Roxy and Dirk laugh and Jake says he doesn’t get why he’s a jerk. Now all four of you are laughing and you don’t really think Jake knows why but whatever, this is fun.

The mishap forgotten, the four of you start drinking to get a buzz going before you get to the club. Roxy, of course, downs four martinis and is shrieking incoherently about something. Jake has much less tolerance for alcohol than her and has just as much to drink, so he starts sticking his head out the sunroof and lifting his arms and screaming something about how he’s the king of the world.

You and Dirk have taken a seat beside each other, sipping casually at your drinks and giving each other knowing looks. The two of you never really drink much, and you don’t plan to start tonight.

 

* * *

 

You’re dead wrong. The club has a special on shots tonight and within an hour and a half all four of you are _plastered,_ singing along to L.M.F.A.O.’s ‘Shots’. Dirk’s shades are off and resting on top of his spiked hair, held securely there by a few over-gelled locks. Your cheeks and nose are bright red and your panties have been seen by pretty much everyone now but you don’t care, because you’re wearing matching black undergarments and you feel sexy, sexier than you’ve ever been.

The back of your head is fuzzy and your vision is almost set in slow-motion, everything has copies of itself and every hand that touches your hips feels like electricity. They don’t stay there for long because, being the protective friends that they are, potentially dangerous drunkards are kept away from you when they pull you out of harm’s way and dance with you themselves. Of course you do the same for them, and you even pull Dirk away from a beefy man who keeps grabbing roughly at his hips.

You’re in the middle of grind train with Roxy, laughing hysterically as a writhing mass of girls press up against you and bump into you and ping-pong you about. You’re dizzy and you’re not sure where your shot glass went? But suddenly another set of hands are on your hips and you’re being ground against and wow this guy is going to get punched because he has a pretty obvious boner.

But you turn around and it’s Dirk with his hands on you, eyes mostly shut, his cheeks flaming inferno red with drunkenness, his fingers digging into your sides. You swallow hard and wow, you are so done caring about how attractive you think Dirk is because he’s Time magazine’s Sexiest Man of the Year (+ his brother) and you have every right to find this man hotter than a baked potato.

So you lean against him and you give him everything you’ve got. Your hands are above your head and in his hair and around his neck and raised high in the sky and your dress is riding up bit by bit, and the buckle of his belt is hard and sharp against your flushed skin. He’s groaning low in your ear and you’re moaning back and the music is driving you harder and harder against him and there’s warmth between your legs that you can’t describe. Everything is getting faster and faster and your world blurs together second by glorious second and when did another drink get in your hand? Why does this feel so good and how did it happen, you don’t even know, all you can think about is how perfect Dirk bloody Strider feels against your body and how much you want more.

More is precisely what you get. You can’t find Jake or Roxy at the moment but neither of you seem to care. The two of you are stumbling and all of a sudden you’re tumbling? But it’s on soft leather seats and oh, you’re back in the limo and _oh heavens Dirk Strider is on top of you._

You vaguely feel like the limo is moving but right now there is a man on top of you and you don’t care. Somehow you notice that he’s heavier and fuller than he looks. Also what was that? Oh his shades just fell on you and does your giggle usually sound like that?

He chucks his shades aside and sits back on his heels, grabbing your hip with one hand and loosening his tie with the other as he pants heavily. Oh wow that moan totally didn’t come out of _your_ mouth, no sirree.

Yes it did. And another escapes you as he falls back on top of you, wedging himself between your legs and pressing flush up against your clothed body. Wow. _Wow_.

And then for some reason you’re stumbling again and it’s kind of cold but oh so _hot_ , and you realize you’re walking into an apartment building and the people in the lobby pay you no mind as you practically fall into the elevator and begin riding up.

Dirk is dazedly looking at a handful of keys as if unsure which one to choose, so you grab them from his palm and start trying to jam them into the keyhole of his apartment one by one until one finally fits and the two of you burst in with the desperation of newlyweds in heat.

You hear the slam and the lock of the door behind you and suddenly he’s grabbing you and shoving you into the door, hitching up your leg with his hand and urging you to put it around him, which you do. You murmur ‘ouch’ and he hisses ‘sorry’ back at you and you think about answering but he’s suddenly kissing you for the very first time and it is pure, raw electricity.

You’ve kissed a man before, sure, but not often, so it takes a little coaxing from Dirk’s tongue until you get into the rhythm. With the majority of your weight supported by the door and Dirk’s hands, it gives you just the right amount of leverage to grind and roll your hips against his. He’s snarling into your mouth and biting your lip and you’re mewling with a mixture of pain and pleasure.

A cry escapes your lips as he yanks you against him and picks you up, and your legs wrap instinctively around his hips. As you both stumble around aimlessly, you bump into things and knock something over and you’re pretty sure something just broke but you don’t care.

You land on something soft, a bed? With your glasses askew and your vision hazy and the overall darkness of the room, it’s pretty hard to see. To be honest, you’re too embarrassed to look anyway as Dirk begins to strip down to his pants. He takes off his belt and tries to be sexy by running the leather along your bare thigh, but he kinda just looks silly so you giggle. He discards the belt and crawls over you again, effectively shutting you up.

He slips your glasses off and sets them aside before crushing his lips against yours again and stealing your breath away. His bare chest is sharp and hard and unbearably warm, making you wish you had taken your sweater off.  That’s granted to you a second later as Dirk hikes up your sweater dress to your waist and snaps the elastic of your panties, making you squeal.

Everything is a mixture of weird colors behind your eyelids and giggles from the two of you as Dirk wrestles you out of your sweater and throws it to the growing pile of clothes on the floor. Next he’s at your brassiere, trying to unhook it and failing miserably. You’re just laughing and laughing because wow you feel bubbly and it just so happens that Dirk Strider himself doesn’t even know how to unhook a bra. The man invented an intelligent Auto Response system for the military and he can’t even figure out lady’s undergarments. You’re totally telling Roxy.

Finally it’s unhooked and you moan as you’re released from the uncomfortable wire which has left twin red marks under your bosoms. Real attractive. Dirk doesn’t even care, however, and just buries his face in your boobs and you’re pretty sure he’s motorboating you? Oh whatever, this is fun! Hoo hoo! Everything is lights and firecrackers and you wish a shot glass would just appear in your hands right about now.

Ooh but then Dirk’s doing something with his fingers, rolling pink buds beneath calloused pads and pinching and tweaking until you’re writhing on top of the bed and your voice is hoarse from moaning. His panting is rough and ragged as he grinds between your legs and lowers his head to bite at the swell of your breast. With a sharp gasp, you lock your knees on his hips and pull him flush against you, pulling a loud moan from both of you.

Next he’s hooking his fingers in your panties and pulling them down slowly and sensually, leaving them to hang off your ankle. Dirk licks his lips and finally releases his cock from its cloth confines, pushing down the front of his orange boxers and stroking himself as he lines up with you and-

_Wait just a gosh darn minute._

“Condom,” you snap suddenly, sobering up almost completely for a split second. Dirk stares at you like he’s been punched, then registers what you said and snaps his fingers. He digs around in his back pocket and pulls out his wallet. Fishing around in it for a few minutes, he pulls up a kind of junky-looking wrapped condom. You grimace. “Dirk, that condom’s still good right?”

Dirk blinks blearily at you and squints at the condom’s expiration date, still stroking himself with one hand.

“Wh. Yeah. Fuck yes. Yeah, condom’s good. Strider seal of approval,” he slurs. You nod, smile and get right back to hooking up with your incredibly attractive best friend.

“Then hurry up and come here,” you purr in a voice that isn’t yours. Dirk groans back and hurriedly opens up his condom (fumbling with it a little) and you make sure to watch as he pinches the air out of the tip and rolls it onto his cock. He gives you a look and you give him a thumbs up before sitting upright and yanking him down on top of you, giggling as you do so.

There’s no need for a lot of foreplay here, because you’re dripping wet and the condom is lubricated and wow, wow, _wow_ Dirk is thick and long and he fills you up to the brim and then some. A long keen falls from your lips and he hushes you with a kiss before he begins to thrust, slowly at first, then with strength and enthusiasm.

You chance a look up at him and he nearly takes your breath away. He’s glistening with perspiration and his head is tipped back in bliss (which makes you proud, to say the least) as his eyes go out of focus and his tongue lolls slightly so he can suck in air. His arms flex with every back and forth motion and every slap of wet skin against skin has him panting in rhythm. Unsurprisingly, he’s relatively quiet when actually in the act of lovemaking (on second thought, you’re pretty sure this is the opposite of lovemaking, because your panties are still dangling from your ankle and you still have your boots on and you’re pretty sure Strider has his pants on) and makes the occasional deep, guttural groan that has you shivering with delight.

Your hands find their way to his biceps and you claw at his sweaty skin, your cries getting louder and louder as his thrusts get harder and harder. His panting gets louder and now he’s grunting with every heavy push, forcing you to hold on for dear life as he very nearly pounds you into the mattress. You manage a warning to him and one hand snakes down to furiously stroke your clit and you’re getting closer, closer, closer, _ooooh_ -

Cumming harder than you’ve ever had by yourself or with any other man, you positively shriek out Dirk’s name and he trembles above you before grabbing your hips and plowing his way deep inside of you. You feel him twitch and he hisses with his release, his eyes rolling back before fluttering shut.

“Fuck… fuck… Jane…” Dirk breathes. “Mnn…”

Dirk slowly pulls out of you and you dazedly watch him peel off his condom and toss it in the wastebasket. He collapses on the bed beside you and barely has time to pull the blanket up before he passes out.

Normally you’d be offended, but a snore somehow escapes your lips and all of a sudden you’re out like a light in Dirk’s bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> they Did the Do


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the morning of dirk and jane's fabulous drunken adventure: the romantic comedy blockbuster
> 
> [special thanks to cherryburlesque for proofing work]

“Mmm…”

You awaken in the morning feeling groggy and… frankly, like a freight train hit you and then danced on top of your unconscious body. The sunlight shining through the window is burning your eyes through the lids and if it isn’t the most annoying thing in the world-

Wait, the sunlight is coming through your west-facing window? In the _morning?_

Feeling like you fell through the earth and into China, you sit bolt upright. The first thing you realize is that you’re not in your bedroom. The second thing you realize is that you’re naked as the day you were born. The third thing you realize is ouch ouch ouch, you should not have sat up so fast. Never again. Ouch.

With a hand holding together your splitting skull, you sneak a peek over at the other side of the bed and groan. That is Dirk Strider’s mop of matted, near-white hair, and you reckon Dirk is attached to it. Sure enough, the lump in the sheets beside you shuffles. There’s a loud groan followed by a burp and a cough before Dirk launches out of bed and sprints out of the room like he’s on fire. He trips on his pants on the way out, which have fallen around his ankles. Kicking them off, he stumbles out in his boxers. You try not to listen as gross barf sounds ensue.

You’re never, ever, ever, _ever_ drinking again.

Looking up when Dirk returns, you pull the sheets around your body and he squints at you for a long time before opening his mouth to speak, stopping, and shutting his mouth. He glances around.

“Did we…?” he trails off.

“I think so.”

“I see.”

“…Dirk, can you hand me my sweater, please?”

“What? Oh. Yeah.”

There’s a long, awkward silence as he bends down to pick up your sweater. He tosses it at you and you clear your throat as you pull it over your head. Dirk is looking down at the floor with a miserable look on his face when your head pops through the turtleneck of your sweater.

“What is it?”

“Panties,” Dirk answers curtly, pointing. You look over and see your black bikini panties on the floor. There’s a lovely, whitish spot where your arousal had stained the crotch. You flush bright red.

“Sorry,” you groan. You get to your feet and pull your sweater down as far as you can. Retrieving the panties, you grimace as you pull them back on. Dirk doesn’t look too thrilled, either. “This is so awkward.”

“You think?” Dirk asks. His tone is somewhat harsh. You wince. Dirk sighs. “Sorry, Jane. My head is fucking killing me and it’s taking me some time to process this. I think I’m still drunk. I took advantage of you last night and… yeah, this is pretty fucked.”

“I don’t hold any hard feelings,” you chuckle nervously before swiping a lock of hair behind your ears. You find your glasses on the floor and pick them up.

“Just forget this ever happened, okay?” Dirk asks, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Just… ugh. And please tell me I used a condom.”

“I think you did,” you say, dread suddenly overwhelming you. You look in the wastebasket and are both relieved and disgusted to see a slimy, used condom stuck to a crumpled up piece of paper. You look away from it as soon as you can. “Yes, we’re all good.”

Dirk looks relieved as well.

“Alright, then. Everything cool between us? No awkwardness?” Dirk asks. You just grin.

“Hey, weird things happen when you’re drunk,” you say, trying to keep a relatively straight face. Part of you feels like dropping to the ground and writhing in embarrassment because you tumbled between the sheets with your soul brother of all people, but the other part of you wants to cheer because you got laid and it just so happens it was with Dirk. Ew, gross. But good job! Ugh. But well done, girl!

You inwardly kick yourself.

“No awkwardness,” you lie through your teeth. Dirk’s tensed shoulders relax and he smirks before raising his fist for a bump. You bump him and force a smile. “Alright then. Do you like eggs and bacon?”

“Hell yes,” Dirk says. He wilts. “But I don’t have eggs or bacon.”

You laugh.

“I figured as much. I’ll scrounge something up for breakfast, don’t you worry!” you assure. Dirk follows you as you walk out of the room and nearly trip over a pile of washers. You stare in horror at the floor, which is an organized disaster. There are piles of tools and metal bits all over the place. Some piles have been scattered due to the stumbling around last night. All you can do is give Dirk a look. “Devilfriggin’ _dickens_ , Strider, have you ever thought of investing in a maid? Or hands with which you can _clean_?”

“I don’t like people touching my shit,” Dirk says defensively. He goes to a scattered pile on the floor and straightens it up before meticulously setting a pile of bolts so the threads are facing the left and the heads are facing the right. “I know exactly where everything is, and I don’t want some maid coming in here and messing it up.”

You just puff up your cheeks before picking your way to the kitchen. The first thing you do is reach for the refrigerator, which just so happens to be a huge mistake. You jump back with a scream as a hundred swords ranging from junky plastic to deadly titanium crash to the ground right in front of you. Dirk comes running in a second later.

“Jane!” he cries, gesturing accusingly at the pile of swords on the floor. You point to yourself incredulously.

“What are you getting all fired up at _me_ for? Swords don’t belong in the fridge, and furthermore, I could’ve gotten a toe lopped off there, or worse!” you yell. This is way too much to deal with when you have a raging hangover.

“Where _else_ could I put all my swords?” Dirk asks heatedly. You throw your hands up in the air.

“Anywhere else besides the _refrigerator_ , how about _that?_ ” you snap. The two of you fume uncomfortably for a minute before you turn to the cupboards. You open them carefully and find a couple boxed things, nothing you can work with. You finally find a box of instant pancake mix and frown as you pull it out. You brush the dust off of the top. “This is absolutely ridiculous. Dirk, what the in the name of bloody hell is wrong with you? You have swords in the fridge, this place is a blasted mess, there are probably mice living in this cupboard, and-”

You scream at the top of your lungs as you open the instant pancake box and a spider sac that was on the spout makes its presence known. Dropping the box, you shut your eyes and try to control your building frustration. Your head is _pounding_.

“Take me home,” you say not too politely, turning on your heel and passing Dirk, who is glaring at the floor as he picks up his swords. He stands as you go and lifts his arms in a shrug.

“Just scrape it off, it wasn’t touching the pancake mix,” Dirk says. You groan and are about to retort when you trip over something on the floor and land on a bunch of washers. Whining with pain, you look over your shoulder to see what you tripped on.

It’s a weird, freaky looking puppet with a smiling face and purple pajamas. Terrified, you shriek and shuffle back on your bum, kicking it away from you with your bare foot. Your hand presses against something and it squeaks, making you scream again. It’s a bright orange smuppet. You hadn’t believed Dirk when he told you about these; you thought it had been some weird and creepy running joke of his, but here it is with its phallic-shaped nose and bulbous foam arse. You want to scream again but this is just getting ridiculous. There are puppets and smuppets _everywhere._

“This is… I’ve had enough,” you mutter, your headache too much for your overloaded emotions to take right now. This is the man you thought you had been pining for. A man with no common sense who stores stupid, stupid swords in his fridge, who plays with creepy dolls, and who never cleans up his messes! He eats junk food all day and never cleans and _ugh!_

You had preferred it when you didn’t know this side of your best friend, you decide with a huff. You have no clue how on earth he had kept this from you for so long, but you suppose the only time you ever actually saw his apartment was when he moved in. Of course _then_ it hadn’t been such a disastrous trainwreck.

“What’s wrong?” Dirk asks, frowning now. He’s got his shades back on. Stooping to pick up his… puppet thing (you suppose this is Lil’ Cal, something you _also_ thought had been a joke), Dirk cocks his head at you. As if nothing’s wrong!

“Just. Just, everything. Everything is wrong and I just want to go home. I’m embarrassed and uncomfortable and I smell like alcohol and sex,” you say, your voice getting increasingly emotional as you go.

“You can take a shower here-”

“Just take me home, Dirk!” you snap. Dirk nods silently, carrying Lil’ Cal on his hip like a baby. He disappears in his bedroom, then reappears a minute later with clothes thrown on. He passes you your boots, which you pull on before getting to your feet and going to the door. The tension is so thick that you swear you can cut it with a knife. Dirk grabs his car keys and lets you out before him.

In the car, the two of you are dead silent. Dirk tries turning on the radio and it makes your headache even worse, so you furiously jab the button to turn it right back off. Crossing your arms, you stare out the window with tired eyes and thin lips. Dirk doesn’t try to turn on the radio again. He drives you to your house (making sure to drive up your driveway this time) and doesn’t say a word as you open the door and begin to step out.

“Are you pissed off at me?” Dirk asks. His voice is surprisingly low and solemn. You look over your shoulder and your hard eyes soften ever so slightly.

“No,” you say. “Just… this is a lot to process this early. I feel gross and pukey and the sensory overload at your apartment was a little too much, sorry.”

“I don’t have people over often,” Dirk says. He sounds ever so slightly wounded and you feel even guiltier. “There isn’t much need to keep things clean.”

You sigh and turn, closing the car door to conserve heat inside the car.

“It’s _your_ quality of life I’m worried about,” you admit. “It’s frightening to see your apartment in such a state when it doesn’t have to be. You deserve much better living conditions than that.”

Dirk just shrugs and looks out the window.

“Well sometimes I can’t ass myself to give a shit,” he mutters. You stare at him and he just looks at his thumbs as he taps them against the steering wheel. “Sorry. Look, this is pretty heavy shit for me, too. I took advantage of my best friend being drunk and I could’ve messed so much shit up, do you understand?”

Dirk takes off his shades and squeezes them in his fist. He looks at you.

“It’s shit like _this_ ,” he begins. “That make me hate myself.”

“Dirk-”

“No, don’t rationalize this,” Dirk interrupts. He smacks the steering wheel and rubs it absently. “I could’ve fucked up _big_ time last night. I could’ve hurt you, and you know, technically what I did last night was rape.”

“Now just hold your horses, Dirk,” you speak up, raising your voice. “Don’t you dare go and blame all of this on yourself! You were just as drunk as I was, so the same could be said for me! And don’t you give me that ‘it’s different because you’re a woman’ malarkey, because I don’t want to hear it! We are both at fault. At the time, it was consensual, there was protection, and I woke up with nothing more than a hickey on my boob.”

Dirk cracks a tiny smirk as you yank down your sweater to show him the hickey on the swell of your breast.

“You didn’t hurt me, and we agreed we’d still be friends, so that’s that!” you say with finality. “I don’t regret what we did last night.”

“You don’t?”

“No,” you say honestly. “I mean, it’s not something I’d want to do again, but… there’s something to be said about the fact that I went home with someone I can trust rather than some stranger at the club.”

You look at Dirk with a smile.

“And it helped me sort out some feelings as well.”

“Whoa now. Leave the vague and cryptic phrases to me. I’m not good at deciphering these things,” Dirk says, raising an eyebrow. “Sorting out what feelings?”

You smile and shrug.

“Feelings. I’ll talk to you soon, alright? But right now, I have some resting and washing up to do, and you have a fly that needs to be zipped up,” you say as you get out of the car. Dirk curses and looks down at his crotch, only to realize that he’s wearing sweatpants. He grins and shakes his head.

“Got me again, Crocker.”

“Don’t I always?”

You wave to him as he drives away before shuffling through the snow to your house and sneaking quietly into the front door. You pull your boots off without making a sound, but of course-

“Janine Kyung Crocker!”

You flinch and look sheepishly over your shoulder at your father, who has his arms crossed and deep shadows beneath his eyes.

“Where on earth have you been? I assumed you were going to be home late, but I was not expecting you to be out all night without even a call to notify me of your location! I was up nearly all night waiting for you to come home. While I respect that you are a legal adult, I do ask that you have a little respect for _me_ and tell me where you are while you are living in this house, young lady. Especially in this weather. And especially since you were, no doubt, drunk! I can smell it on you! Jane, did you go _home_ with someone last night?”

You flush and look away. Dad looks faint of heart.

“Lord have mercy-”

“I went home with Dirk, alright? With Dirk,” you snap at first before correcting yourself and lowering your voice. You look at the floor, cheeks burning. Your father is silent for a long time.

“…Did you…?”

You pinch your lips together and clench your fists at your sides. Dad clears his throat.

“I see. Well, that sure escalated quickly, didn’t it?”

You give him a look that’s between helpless and exasperated. He scratches the back of his head.

“Pumpkin, I don’t mean to… offend you. But did that man… er, did he take advantage of you?”

“No, Dad,” you mumble. “He didn’t, I promise. And he used protection, before you ask. The only bad thing about all of this is the hangover. I feel sick and gross and I really just want to take a shower right now.”

Dad relaxes and sighs.

“Well, just go shower, change into some comfortable clothes, and I’ll make you some ginger tea for the nausea,” Dad says, reaching out to pat your shoulder. “And by the way, you forgot your phone in your room. It’s been ringing all morning.”

“Crud,” you hiss before rushing upstairs. Once you’re there, you throw yourself at your phone and slide it open. With a groan, you find that Jake has called you once and Roxy has called you seven times in the past two hours. Just as you’re about to dial her number, your phone starts ringing again. You pick up. “…Hello?”

_“Jane, what the fuck?!”_

“I’m sorry!” you cry, putting your hand over your eyes. Your phone beeps at you, signifying the battery is low, so you lie down on your bed and plug it in while Roxy goes off on you on the phone.

_“Me and Jake had to, like, call a cab last night and we hardly had any money to pay so it frickin’ sucked because we had to get out like a mile away from my house and like thirty miles away from Jake’s! My mom had to drive him home and she was super, duper pissed. Like suuuuper pissed. She took the key to the wine storage and told me if I get drunk again she’ll set my computer on fire. So I guess I’ll be sober for a few days. Like seriously, where’d you even go last night?”_

“…Dirk’s apartment,” you mumble. There’s a long, long pause on the other line that makes you think Roxy hung up. But suddenly-

_“WHAT?!”_ she shrieks, nearly making you jump out of your skin. _“Excuse me, excuse me what? What? Did you-”_

“Yes,” you groan. Roxy gasps.

_“No. Fucking. Way. Did he wrap it before he tapped it?”_

“Roxy!” you groan. “Yes, for goodness sakes, he wore a condom. I checked the bin this morning.”

_“Thank god. I mean, like, we can’t have you going and getting preggers.”_

“Duh,” you say. “Yeah, we were both worried about that but, like I said, we saw it in the bin so it’s all fine and dandy.”

Silence.

_“Soooo?”_

“What?”

_“What do you mean ‘so’? How was it? Like, god, you can’t just tell me you got laid and not give me the juicy details! Extra emphasis on the J-U-I-C-Y.”_

“There’s really nothing to say on the matter. We were drunk, we went to his apartment and… the rest is history.”

_“How big was he?”_

“Christ on a cracker, Roxy!”

_“What?! I want to know! C’mon, just a hint? Please? Pretty please? C’mon, you owe it to me for stealing the man of my dreams!”_

You roll your eyes.

“You specifically told me that crushing on him was a phase you went through as a teenager because you were, and I quote, ‘into guys who were aloof and sexy, just like the rest of the female population in the world’ at the time.”

_“Dammit, you caught me. But I still want to know! C’mooooon, Janey, pleeeease?”_

“Alright, alright, fine, goodness gracious. He had to have been… gosh, I don’t know. I don’t remember much. But he… um, he was… big, and… yeah.”

_“You mean he doesn’t have a pencil dick?”_

“Nonono, heavens no,” you laugh. “And he left a big ol’ hickey right on my boob.”

Roxy screams on the other line and you have to hold the phone away from your ear.

“ _Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!_ ” Roxy chants. _“What else?”_

You grin as your urge to prank surfaces once more.

“Well, at one point he told me to get out this big box under the bed…” you begin, stifling your snickering. Roxy is practically panting into the phone.

_“Yeah, yeah?”_

“And I pulled it out and I found this… huge purple strap-on and some orange-flavored lube.”

Roxy screams again and you give yourself the chance to choke out a laugh.

“So he rolled over and got on all fours, and he whispered…”

_“Yeah, yeah, yeah?!”_

“’Put it in my bum, Miss Crocker’.”

Roxy lets out the loudest scream yet, but not before you hear a clatter behind you. Your stomach drops and you look over your shoulder just in time to see your dad make a U-turn and walk right out of your room.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double chapter special! I am waaaay ahead right now, so I think I can sneak in a double chapter update. I am very happy with all of the feedback I got last chapter! Thank you very much for your comments. As always, feel free to leave constructive criticism or suggestions. This is part one of the double chapter update, and eight will go up soon.

When Christmas Eve rolls around, you decide to invite Roxy over to come decorate your Christmas tree before your father gets home from last minute shopping to surprise him. Of course you’ll leave the star for him, he loves putting on the topper and being the first one to plug in the lights. While you’re not one of the Christian faith, you certainly don’t mind sharing such a warm and happy holiday with your father and loved ones.

You look over at Roxy, who is pouting as she stares at an ornament in the shape of an eggnog carton. She’s still sober and isn’t too happy about it, so you thought that she’d be happy to get out of the house for a while. Secretly, however, you had originally planned to invite Dirk, but you’ve been sort of avoiding him after the ‘incident’.

You’ve come to accept that your brief flash of feelings for Dirk was just because he had appealed to you while you were on the rebound from Jake’s rejection. It makes perfect sense to you now, and you are certainly relieved to get back to a normal relationship with him. Furthermore, after your discovery that the man is a ‘boy’ in his own way by not taking proper care of himself, your attraction towards him has decreased significantly. Also, he has a big nose.

That’s not a problem, of course. He just has a big nose. It doesn’t bother you that much. Okay, maybe it’s noticeable but you don’t hate it. But you definitely notice it. His big nose, that is. Ha.

“…Earth to Jane? Hellooooo!”

You jump and blink rapidly, turning to Roxy. She sighs melodramatically.

“I’ve been calling you for, like, five minutes,” she says. “You were off in lala land again. Were you thinking about Dirk’s big, thick, _throbbing_ cock?”

“Ewww!” you shriek, breaking off into giggle as you dance away from Roxy’s grabby hands. “No, I was not thinking about that! Get your head out of the gutter.”

“Oh I don’t think I’m in the gutter, unless ‘the gutter’ is a term for your thoughts,” Roxy teases. She looks around the corner of the tree at you and smirks. “C’mon, admit it!”

“I don’t quite know what you’re talking about,” you say. You upturn your nose and make your way towards the kitchen. “Do you want some… _adult_ eggnog or not?”

“You know exactly what I mean, and fuck yes I do,” Roxy says, excitedly bouncing after you and into the kitchen, where she hops up onto the kitchen table and kicks her feet. “Just admit that you have it for Dirk.”

“I swear, I don’t!” you exclaim, pulling the eggnog from the fridge and pouring it into a large serving bowl. You then pull your father’s bottle of rum from the cupboard. Roxy bounces with glee behind you.

“Make sure you add some extra for meeee,” she singsongs. You snort and add just the correct amount, no more, no less. Stirring with a ladle, you put your free hand on your hip and hum. You lift out a small portion of eggnog to taste it. “You’re so cute, Jane, with your cute little kitty cat sweater and your denial of your love for Mister Dirk Strider.”

You promptly spit out the sip of eggnog and choke, coughing and pounding your chest.

“Roxy!” you whine. “I’m not in love with Dirk! Look, I’ll give you the full truth.”

Roxy leans forward as you turn bravely to face her.

“After Jake rejected me, I had a few weeks or so of… mildly crushing on Dirk.”

Roxy gasps dramatically.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about him! And I couldn’t stop imagining him… and all that hoopla. The whole time I felt mildly disgusted because he’s kind of like my brother! So I already wasn’t taking it too seriously, as you can imagine. Well, then, after the… the night-”

“The night you let him put his big fat bratwurst in your banana cream pie,” Roxy answers. You flush and roll your eyes as hard as you can.

“Yes, that night… in the morning I saw the state of his apartment.”

“Oh _no_.”

“Oh yes. He has puppets, Roxy! And hundreds of these… these ludicrous, embarrassing little dolls with… with noses shaped like… like…!” you have trouble saying it, so you lean forward and whisper in Roxy’s ear. “Peepees.”

“Oh no, not the peepees!”

“Precisely!” you say, distressed. “And he had nuts and bolts and odd contraptions all over the floor, like some sort of hoarder! I was horrified, so I tried to make breakfast for the two of us, and he had swords in his refrigerator! Swords. _Swords_. Just let that sink in for a second. The man had. Swords. In. His. Fridge.”

“Earth-shattering.”

“Exactly!” you exclaim. “And, ugh, I went into his cupboard and found instant pancake mix, and there was a spider nest right in the spout! And Dirk told me to _scrape it off!”_

Roxy wrinkles her nose.

“Okay, I must admit that one is pretty grody with a capital J.”

“Yes,” you sigh, shaking you head. “Honestly, I don’t know what I saw in him. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me about the state of his apartment!”

“I did, but you didn’t believe me.”

“Well… come on, what was I supposed to believe? It’s kind of hard to believe a grown man would keep toy swords in his appliances!” you whine. “I guess I didn’t know as much about Dirk as I thought. It makes me kind of uncomfortable, really. And I feel kind of guilty! He is my best friend, after all.”

“Babydoll, there are a thousand and one sides to Dirk Strider and not even he himself knows all of them,” Roxy says, crossing her legs and making grabby hands. “Gimme some booze. Then we’ll talk more.”

“This hardly counts as booze,” you laugh, ladling Roxy a nice big glass of eggnog and sprinkling some nutmeg into it.

“It’s good enough,” Roxy says. “Anyway, what was I saying? Oh yeah. Dirk Strider is a frickin’ weirdo and you’ll just have to accept that. Jake was and is a weirdo in his own way, too.”

“I know, but at least he knows the difference between a real meal and a sack of processed junk!” you protest. Roxy titters and shakes her head.

“Girl, is this about food? Because if you’re giving up on that sexy piece of pale ass just because he likes McDonald’s and Cheetos instead of grandma’s homemade chicken noodle soup and green beans, then you are S-H-A-L-L-O-W.”

“I am not shallow!” you say, pouting. “It was just startling is all. I guess maybe I’m just a little disappointed, too. Like here I was, assuming he was this super clean guy who could at least pick up after himself and stay organized. Or, at least, organized in a sensible way. I thought he was kinda similar to me! But it turns out we’re complete opposites.”

“Opposites attract,” Roxy sings, kicking up her heels again. You give her a look. “Oh, c’mon Jane. Does this seriously change everything you ever thought about your best friend?”

“…I guess not,” you sigh. “But it kinda does. It just bugs me a little, is all.”

“Look, babe, there is no true ‘man’ out there who isn’t somewhat of a ‘boy’ in his own way. You just have to find a man who is a boy in ways that make you, like, click. Take me for example. I don’t want someone with a ‘boy’ dick, I want someone with a ‘man’ dick,” Roxy says as you laugh. “I’m serious! I also want someone who isn’t a ‘boy’ in regards to accepting that I have lots of friends who mean as much to me as he does. I want a ‘man’ for that. But I’d totally go for a guy who is a ‘boy’ when it comes to drinking. And having fun! Like, if he loves to play with Legos and plays video games all day instead of work, I’d be all over that like a fat kid on a Smartie because I have more money than I know what to do with! The ideal man can’t _not_ be a boy sometimes. That’d make him, like, a boring stick in the mud. You wanna have someone you can have fun with, right? Don’t lie.”

“Yeah,” you admit. “But I guess Dirk is a ‘boy’ in ways that don’t work for me. Kinda like Jake.”

“Understandable,” Roxy says with a sage nod. “Just don’t spend too much time trying to decipher this, okay? I want to see you enjoy yourself with a totally hot dude, not wallow around trying to find this super-duper-alliyooper perfect man.”

You sigh, feeling a wave of melancholy wash over you. You wish you could be as mature about this as Roxy is. With a sigh, you take a sip of eggnog just as Roxy drains her glass and asks for a refill. You give her some more and make her promise not to have anymore. She pouts but you convince her that she will regret it if her mother catches her. You also promise her you won’t have any more either, even though you’ve had just a teeny mouthful.

The two of you return to the living room just in time for Roxy to halt in her tracks and groan, clutching her belly. You look at her in alarm but she waves you off.

“Just a bit of cramps. Do you have a pad I can borrow?” Roxy asks. You nod.

“Yes, of course. Are overnight pads okay? I usually just use tampons during the day so I never get regular sized pads,” you say as you lead Roxy to the bathroom.

“That’s more than okay. Ugh, I hope I didn’t bleed through again,” Roxy grumbles. You laugh and pat her back sympathetically before handing her a pad and leaving the bathroom to give her some privacy. You lean against the door. “Ewww. Dammit!”

“Bleed through?” you ask through the door. Roxy moans from the other side.

“Yeah… they’re just my shark week panties so it’s all good. I’m sooo glad I wasn’t wearing my favorite ruffle panties,” Roxy says.

“Why are you bleeding so much all of a sudden?”

“I got put on birth control because my periods were being all wacky and irregular. Like, I had three months where I didn’t have a period and I got all psyched out ‘cuz I thought a semen ghost had visited my room and got me preggers. And finally my mom said I was being too dramatic and told me to either get on the pill or suffer her wrath. So now I’m on the pill and I’m in red week, which totally sucks because guess who’s not having sex on Christmas! Also, I’m getting these super gross zits right between my tits. It’s really shitty, Jane. I hate the pill.”

“That’s too bad,” you say with a frown. “Wow. I didn’t know periods could be that irregular.”

The door jostles and you stop leaning on it just in time for Roxy to come out, looking grumpy again. You give her a snuggle-session and lead her to the kitchen, where you hand her some ibuprofen and a glass of (non-alcoholic) eggnog. She downs the pills before groaning and shuffling to the living room, where she tosses herself on the couch and whines into the pillow.

“I haaaaate periods!” she wails. You chortle and pet her back.

“There, there, Roxy. At least they’ll be more regular now! This is your first month on the pill, so your body is probably just emptying itself of all that buildup. The cramps will get better,” you say reassuringly. You trace her spine and she relaxes into the cushions with a sigh. She turns her head towards you and blows her hair out of her eyes.

“Do you get irregular periods?”

“Every once and a while I won’t bleed, I suppose,” you say, shrugging. “Maybe I’ll skip a month every once and a while, but when that happens I still have to wear a pad because there’s still… stuff coming out, you know? Like the clear stuff.”

“Lucky,” Roxy groans. You just grin and lean down to smooch Roxy’s cheek. She offers you a weak smile.

Just then, the door opens and Dad Crocker steps in with a Christmas ham in one hand and a paper bag cradled in the other arm. He freezes upon seeing Roxy.

“Would you like me to get out the Code Red bonbons?” he asks cautiously. Roxy groans really loud and Dad nods understandingly. “I hear you loud and clear, Miss Lalonde. One chocolate picker-upper coming right up!”

“I love your dad,” Roxy sighs dreamily. “I’m gonna marry him one day. What a dream boat.”

“Ew,” you giggle. “He’s balding.”

“Mmnf, bald men get me goin’,” Roxy whispers. She ruts against the couch a little and you laugh out loud while you grab her butt to get her to stop humping the cushions. Dad sweeps back into the room a second later, a box of chocolates in his hands. He gives them to Roxy and she hums gratefully and pops one in her mouth.

“You have as many as you’d like, Miss Lalonde,” Dad says. He then looks at the tree. “The tree looks absolutely stunning, ladies. And you saved the star just for me!”

“Yup,” you say. “And, as always, you get to light it up first!”

Dad claps his hands together and rubs them as he plucks the topper up from the coffee table and stretches up to put the star right on top. He then bends to plug in the lights and the tree lights up beautifully. The star is a little crooked but you clap anyway.

“Mozoltov,” Roxy mumbles through her mouthful of chocolate before raising a bonbon in Dad’s honor. He takes a bow, taking off his trademark fedora as he does so. Once he hangs it up on the coat hanger, he rolls up his sleeves and puts his hands on his hips.

“Young ladies should be in bed, lest they wish for Santa Claus to skip their house!” Dad says cheerfully. Roxy snort-laughs and you just smile and shake your head.

“Dad, we’re adults now! Let me at least help you carry the gifts up from the basement.”

Dad considers this.

“Oh, all right. But after that, it’s straight to bed!”

“Okay,” you say before getting to your feet and giving Roxy the TV remote if she wants it. She smacks your butt as a thank you. Following your dad downstairs into the basement and to the corner, you smile at the large pile of gifts waiting there. There are even presents for Dirk, Dave, Jake, Roxy, and Rose, who always come to your house for a Christmas party.

“Your mother would be so proud to see this,” your father suddenly comments. You look over at him and see him smiling whimsically down at the pile of gifts. “Yes. Really proud, I think, to see how much our family has grown. When the heavens took her away, they gave us so much more. I’m not saying I don’t wish she was here now, but I am happy. And I think, wherever she is, she’s happy that I’m happy too.”

Your dad is suddenly weeping a little and you soothe him carefully, embracing him and rubbing his back. In an insane, freak accident, your mother had been struck by a meteorite and had died instantly from the impact. Your father had been there. You’ve heard this story a million times, how he had stepped into a toy store with you in your stroller because you couldn’t stop pointing to a toy you wanted. Your mother had waited outside and was struck while your father was no more than ten feet away. He tells you that you are a miracle baby that somehow knew what was coming and tried to lead him and your mother away. Unfortunately, your mother hadn’t been so lucky. It’s a sad and strange tale (honestly, how on earth does anyone get hit so accurately by a meteorite) that your father has told you many times before.

Dad sniffles and wipes his nose with a hanky he keeps in his pocket.

“Sorry, sorry, my dear, it’s just… you get sentimental with age.”

You kiss his head sweetly.

“That’s okay, Daddy,” you say. The childish name makes him perk up a little and smile.

“Your mother’s first Christmas was a little ridiculous, because we accidentally spilled eggnog on her and then the Christmas tree burst into flame because the lights short-circuited,” your dad begins. You love it when he launches into stories like this, and listen with a grin as he tells it. He picks up a pile of presents and you follow suit before following him up the stairs. “But she said she had a wonderful time and hoped all of her subsequent Christmases would be just as grand! Of course, we never put cheap lights on the Christmas tree again. She started loving Christmas just as enthusiastically as me, and on your very first Christmas, when you were just a tiny little baby, she wrapped you up in tinsel and you just stared straight ahead because you weren’t sure if you were scared or overjoyed. You seemed to like the ornament shaped like a lollipop, though.”

You let Dad yammer on and on as the two of you make several trips up and down the stairs. Once all of the presents are up, you arrange them around the Christmas tree in a semi-fancy fashion. Dad turns off the lights, turns on a Christmas music station on the television, then looks proudly at the tree.

“Alright, that should be the last of them. Thanks for the help, darling,” Dad says, putting an arm around your shoulders and gazing at the tree for a while. You two have a peaceful moment together listening to ‘White Christmas’ and just being together before Roxy lets out a loud snore from the couch. You laugh and look over your shoulder at her. The now empty box of bonbons lie on the coffee table and she’s all sprawled out and sleeping right on the couch with a bit of chocolate on the corner of her mouth. “Ah, yes. I do believe it’s time for bed. Santa will be coming soon!”

He taps his chest over his heart and you respond by mimicking him. That satisfies him and, with a grunt, he goes to Roxy and lifts her up off the couch.

“You got her, Dad?”

“Yup, I’m just fine. I’ll just deposit her right in your bed, alright?” he asks as he heads up the stairs to your bedroom.

“Yeah,” you say. You try not to laugh when you see Roxy peek at you with one eye and give you a thumbs-up behind Dad’s back. You follow up the stairs a moment later and enter your room in time to see Roxy clinging to Dad’s neck as he tries to lay her down to sleep. Dad chuckles and wriggles out of her grasp.

“Goodnight, you two,” Dad says, patting Roxy’s head and giving you a goodnight kiss. “And don’t stay up too late with your girl gossip and your lip gloss and bedazzled cell phones and all of that hoo-haa.”

“Alright, Dad,” you say. When Dad leaves, you undress and put on some pajamas. Roxy does the same, digging around in her backpack for her old high school sweatpants and a baggy t-shirt with a big pink cat face on the front. She snuggles up in your blankets while you take off your bra and pull a tank top on. Yawning, you put your glasses on the bedside table and watch blearily as Roxy lifts up the covers for you.

“C’mere, sexy lady,” Roxy mumbles sleepily. You crawl into bed and tickle her briefly before pulling her in for cuddles.

“Roxy, do you ever think we’re too old for sleepovers?” you ask. Roxy hums softly and shrugs.

“Pro’lly. But this is like… a ‘girl’ moment, not a ‘woman’ moment, so it’s totally one hundred percent okie-dokie.”

“Hoohoo. Alright, Roxy. Goodnight.”

“Nighty night.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> part 2 of the double update special!

On Christmas morning, you wake up to the sound of voices downstairs and the smell of fresh cinnamon rolls being baked. Rolling over, you peer at your clock and groan when you see that it’s seven-thirty in the morning. Goodness gracious. It’s too early for this.

You roll back over and tuck yourself up against Roxy, who is still fast asleep and snoring lightly with a puddle of drool on the pillow beneath her face. You don’t really mind at all since you’re still drowsy, but you make sure to scoot your pillow away from Roxy just a tad. You’re allowed precisely four minutes of sleep before you hear the telltale creak of your bedroom door opening. You don’t feel like getting up just yet, so you groan and bury your face in the sheets. For a moment, there’s silence and you think whoever is in your room is gone.

That is, of course, until your whole world suddenly flips upside down and you plummet out of bed like a sack of potatoes. Roxy follows soon after, landing on you and knocking the wind out of your lungs. You look over to see Dirk and Jake laughing and high-fiving as they put your mattress back down where it belongs.

“Dirk! Jake!” you wheeze, reaching out for them and trying to get a string of curse words out. Roxy beats you to it. She stands slowly, shoulders hunched and feet shoulder width apart. She has on her best ‘Aunt Flo is in town’ face and lets out an animalistic roar. Jake screams like a little girl and Dirk ducks out of the way as Roxy launches herself at them, hopping up onto Jake’s back and locking her legs around his waist. She rips and tears at his hair and Jake runs out of the room screaming and blindly following Dirk, who pounds down the staircase first while laughing his ass off. There’s a crash from downstairs followed by the tinkering of ornaments falling onto the coffee table. Knowing the tree has been knocked over (again), you roll your eyes and only hope that the presents weren’t harmed.

With a pained groan, you haul yourself to your feet and tiredly make your way downstairs. Jake and Roxy are having a fight to the death on the ground. Rose comes running in from the kitchen with a broom and whaps at them until they’re herded outside and into the snow, where they violently beat the stuffing out of each other.

“Good morning, Jane,” Rose says, making a show of brushing her hands off before picking up her broom and turning to you. “And a Merry Christmas to you! It’s such a joy to see you lovely children up before noon and tearing apart the house as per tradition. I’m relieved to see the gifts have not been destroyed; usually at least one thing gets crushed under Jake. Won’t you come into the kitchen and have a cinnamon roll, dear?”

You just nod tiredly and she titters before escorting you into the kitchen. There, Dad and Dave are working side by side, firing the brown sugar and honey glaze on the ham. You pout.

“Aw, I wanted to fire the glaze!” you whine. Dave shrugs and plucks his cigarette from his mouth before blowing a smoke ring at you.

“You snooze, you lose, squirt,” he says.

“Oh, don’t start,” Rose says as she serves you a cinnamon roll and hands you a fork. “You were up all night and that’s the only reason you’re awake now. I doubt you’ll last through the day.”

“Oh darling, you are such a shrew,” Dave sighs.

“And you’re well into your forties and still pulling all-nighters like a child. Must we have this conversation, honey-bunches? It is much too over-played, much like your ridiculous sitcom on ABC.”

“Pulling an all-nighter to keep you satisfied,” Dave mutters.

“Oh, I’m sorry, was I supposed to stay awake for that?”

Dave slams his palm down on the counter and Rose cackles like a witch.

“What is the score now? A million to zero?” she purrs.

“I loathe you,” Dave spits. Rose comes up behind him and coils her thin arms around his waist. You can’t turn your eyes away because two of the most famous people on the planet are in your kitchen flirting. It’s a dream come true.

“And I loathe you,” Rose murmurs. She kisses his neck and traces circles over his chest. “So very. Very. Much.”

You can see Dave shudder from here.

“Alright now, folks, let’s not get too rowdy here,” Dad says, acting as the mediator of the wordless duel between Rose and Dave. “Rose, will you help me prepare the shrimp cocktails?”

“Of course,” she says. You watch as she sinks her claws into Dave’s behind through his athletic pants, making him hiss and jump. She smiles cheekily and he looks like he’s about to either throw her out the window or throw her onto the table and get intimate with her.

A moment later, Dirk walks into the kitchen.

“The tree’s back up,” he announces as he goes to the stove and grabs a sticky cinnamon roll with his bare hand. Dave slaps his wrist with a spatula. “No broken ornaments this year.”

“Thank god,” Dave says, taking another drag of his cigarette. “I gotta say that it’s not too pleasant picking shards of glass out of Jake’s ass.”

Dirk snorts and nods as he eats a cinnamon roll with his hands, holding a plate haphazardly under his sticky chin. He’s almost halfway through it by the time Roxy and Jake come in from outside, caked in snow with rosy cheeks and smiles on their faces.

“A rip-snortin’ good time, if I could say so myself! I swear these spars we have get better and better every year!” you hear Jake saying from the living room. Dave goes to the doorway to look at them.

“Get cleaned up for fuck’s sake, you two look like you got in a fight with a pickup truck,” Dave says in a tone that’s almost scolding. You hear the sound of Jake and Roxy pounding up the staircase before Dave comes back into the kitchen and shakes his head. “How is Roxy your daughter? She’s nothing like you, Rose.”

“I suppose the life of a prim and proper lady isn’t the life for everyone,” Rose replies. Dave scoffs.

“Prim and proper, huh. Right.”

Christmas gets into the full swing once Dad turns on _How The Grinch Stole Christmas_ and everyone jams into the living room for a good old fashioned game of ‘let’s see if we’ll break the couch this year by trying to stuff five or six people onto it’. Jake and Dirk have some much needed ‘male bonding’ time by arm wrestling for the position of playing Santa Claus. At first it appears that Jake is far stronger than Dirk until Dave jumps in and tries to ‘help a bro out’. He only manages to knee Dirk in the crotch and he spends the next five minutes rolling on the floor in agony and Dave mourning the loss of Dirk’s potent sperm.

In the end, Dad plays Santa, even going as far as donning a puffy red hat and a beard. When Dad has his back turned, Dave pantomimes jerking himself off and Rose smacks him upside the head, resulting in yet another of their famous banter duels. Rose wins again, as expected, but you think that Dave may be allowing her to win. He keeps rubbing something small and square-shaped in his left pocket and you can’t help but to think that tonight might just be the night.

The monstrous pile of gifts scores you an abridged Pony Pals book from Dirk, a signed _Sherlock Holmes_ poster from Jake (complete with what you think is a kiss mark on Robert Downey Jr.’s face), and a sweet new (semi-legal) hardware upgrade for your computer from Roxy. From the adults, you get the entire boxed set of _Sherlock Holmes_ novels from Rose, along with Rose’s new book that won’t be hitting the shelves until March. Dave gets you a professional-grade magic kit along with instructions, then tells you that your grandpa was into stupid stuff like magic and that he’d be proud to know that you practiced with the same magic kit that he had. Finally, Dad gets you a complete kitchen utensil set. At first it looks like Betty Crocker brand, but everything that would’ve been red is blue, and the ‘Betty’ is replaced with ‘Jane’, making it appear as though it’s your own line of kitchen utensils.

Your happy, crying face as you hug your father tightly is caught on Dave’s iPhone for everyone to see until you threaten to smash it with your new meat mallet.

Once everyone is satisfied and happy with their gifts, you, Roxy, Jake, and Dirk sit on the floor around the coffee table while Dad occupies his recliner and Dave and Rose lounge together on the couch. It’s nice and peaceful and quiet until you look over your shoulder and suddenly Dave and Rose are gone.

“Oh no!” you gasp. Everyone turns to look at you. “Where are Dave and Rose? We’re going to miss it!”

“Miss what?” Jake asks. You grin widely.

“The proposal! I think Mister Strider is going to propose tonight!”

Dirk snorts and shakes his head before getting back to watching _The Christmas Story_ , where Ralph’s mom is snickering as the leg lamp crumples into a bunch of broken plastic pieces. You harrumph at him and get to your feet, determined to find your favorite duo. You don’t have to look for long, because you happen to look out the window and find them outside in the snow. You remain stealthy as you peek from around the curtains, but soon Roxy and Jake (and Dirk, casually of course) join you in pressing your noses to the window to watch.

“Ohhh, I wish I knew what they were saying!” you whine. Dirk comes up right beside you, hands stuffed in his pockets. He brushes against your arm and your skin tingles. You try to focus completely on Dave and Rose, but it’s hard when Dirk is right up beside you like that. What? So you don’t have weird feelings for him anymore, that doesn’t mean he can invade your personal bubble without you noticing!

“I can tell you what they’re saying,” Dirk says. “Let me see. My bro’s saying something fucking retarded, and Rose is coming back with a sick burn that could singe eyebrows. That’s it. That’s literally all you need to know about their relationship.”

“You’re so rude, Dirk,” you say, sticking your tongue out at him before turning back to the window. “I must say, I expected more fanfare than this.”

Dave sinks to one knee in the snow and Jake makes a squealing noise and claps his hands excitedly.

“You go, work that movie magic, y’old coot!” Jake mutters, making the rest of you laugh. When Dave presents the ring, all of you tense up, even Dirk. For a long, silent moment, Rose does nothing and Dave makes a presumably snide remark that has her chortling behind her hand. Finally, she gives a nod and accepts the ring. As Dave slips it on Rose’s finger, you, Roxy, and Jake cheer loudly. Dirk just smiles and crosses his arms while the three of you bundle him up into a group hug.

You watch them over your shoulder as Dave surges forward and wraps his arms around Rose’s lithe waist before lifting her and spinning her around. Once he lets her down, he pulls her in for a kiss.

Rose dips him and Dave points his toes like a proper princess.

When they come in again, hand in hand and rosy-cheeked, the rest of you congratulate them with applause and hugs. They stay close for the rest of the night and share a glass of eggnog together.

“Mom, did Dave deliver? I mean, there weren’t any fireworks,” Roxy says after a while, looking over at her mother and Dave, who are lying close together on the couch with their legs tangled. You can’t help but think that they look like kids when they’re like that, and that they’ve never looked happier.

“I believe that is the charm of Dave’s proposal,” Rose says. Dave’s hand slides up her side and rests on her waist. “Here I was, expecting all of the fanfare and paparazzi and the fireworks, but Strider was very genuine and simple. Very cliché, without a bit of flare. He didn’t even try to rap. That is why I said yes. One, we didn’t have an audience of paparazzi to openly mock, and two, it was so magnificently ironic of him to not try a single out-of-the-norm thing that I couldn’t resist.”

Dave grins proudly as Dirk gives him a discreet fist bump.

“I gave up trying to blow you away because I knew whatever I’d do, you’d expect it and see it coming,” Dave says. “And I knew the only way to score a Lalonde is to unleash the surprise attack.”

Rose hums as Dave kisses her neck and pulls her flush against him before tickling her sides and making her squirm.

“That’s so romantic,” you say with a happy sigh, leaning your chin against your knuckles. “I want a romantic proposal like that some day!”

Dirk looks at you and Jake flushes bright red, but Roxy dives at you and knocks you over before hovering over you on all fours. Giggling, you try to escape, but Roxy lies fully on top of you and keeps you stationary.

“Jaaaane, be my wife!” Roxy says.

“No Roxy, that’s homosexual!” you cry between fits of laughter, trying to kick her off. “Don’t make me say it!”

“Roxy, since you’re going to be my stepdaughter soon, I hereby forbid you from letting Jane say the thing,” Dave says.

“I’m not a hom-” you begin, but Roxy claps a hand over your mouth and the two of you wrestle for a bit before you bump into the tree and nearly knock it over for a second time.

“Alright, alright, enough rough-housing,” Dad says, waking up from his nap with a snort and a clear of his throat. “I’m not about to make Mister Strider pick any glass out of bums tonight.”

* * *

 

It’s always a bittersweet moment when your friends have to leave, but you suppose they have to go home at some point. You hug them all goodbye and help them make sure they’ve got everything before the front door finally closes and it’s just you and your father again. Together, the two of you drink up the last of the eggnog. You haven’t had much of it but you don’t quite like the taste of rum, so you let Dad have most of it while you are content to have just a small sip. You’re also not too keen to start drinking again; you’re still pretty much turned off of drinking after the night of ‘the incident’. When you’ve washed the dishes, you and your father hug goodnight before you head off to bed with a warm feeling in your belly.

The weeks following Christmas always fly by. You celebrate New Year’s with your friends, letting them get drunk while you politely pass and offer to be their designated driver. Dirk limits himself to only one beer, telling you that he’s kind of turned off of drinking too. 2013, you think, is the start of fresh beginnings and resolutions. Roxy says this year she wants to go completely sober (not likely), Jake says he’d like to contribute a large sum of money to saving an endangered species, and Dirk says he just wants everything to stay the same and never change.

You don’t know what you’d like to change about yourself for the New Year. You have plenty of friends and your life is wonderful, so why change anything? You tell everyone that your wish is the same as Dirk’s, for everything to stay the same and never change.

School starts again and you’re more than ready to face the new semester. One of your classes is, unfortunately, located pretty far off the main campus, so you have to drive quite a ways to get there. It isn’t unbearable, but you hate driving in the snow, so your dad takes you to school for the most part, and Dirk offers to drive you every once and a while.

And of course, you contract the winter stomach bug that’s going around campus and end up spending the last few days of January and the first half of February running to the toilet every few hours to throw up. Puking might just be your least favorite thing to do in the whole world, so Dad skips a couple days of work to comfort you and help you around the house, then passes the baton to Roxy, who comes over to take care of you after that. It soon becomes apparent that this is the longest, most obnoxious and miserable stomach bug you’ve ever faced, so you tough it up and go back to school. A few times during the day you excuse yourself to throw up, and you begin to worry that you’re going to get behind in your studies.

On one particularly dreadful day in which you have spent the better half of your favorite culinary class puking up your intestines, you slump against the stall wall and wipe the sweat from your brow. You dry heave for a little while and spit up some mucus before groaning and pulling out your phone. You really just want to talk to someone right now.

Dialing in Roxy’s number, you stare blankly at the tile wall in front of you. They’re white, with one blue tile for every three white tiles. The pattern calms your churning stomach, so while the phone rings for Roxy, you busy yourself with counting the blue tiles.

_Twenty five…_

_Twenty six…_

_Twenty seven…_

_Twenty eight…_

_Twenty nine…_

_Thirty…_

_Thirty one…_

You wrinkle your nose. Thirty _one_ tiles? What an odd number. It kind of bothers you to think about. Thirty one tiles. Who thinks that it’d be a good idea to have thirty one tiles instead of thirty? Perhaps they had the days of the month in their minds when they were setting the tiles. Yes, that makes sense. You wonder if there is a stall in which there is only twenty-eight blue tiles to mark February. Is there a stall with enough tiles for March? How about December?

It occurs to you that perhaps there are thirty-one blue tiles to remind women of their monthly visits from Mother Nature. In your estranged state of mind, you find that to be completely plausible. What an introspective way to remind women of the monthly shedding of their uterus lining!

Wait.

Your face instantly goes from dumbfounded awe to a deep frown as something occurs to you. You squeeze your phone in your hand and think hard, _very_ hard, and count something on the tips of your fingers.

_“Hello?”_

You don’t hear Roxy’s voice because at that exact moment you realize something as if it had slapped you in the face. You grip the toilet in front of you, not caring about germs at the moment, because an icy, brutal dread grips your entire body and squeezes. Your phone clatters to the floor.

You haven’t had your period in over two months.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> plot twist: i stop updating for ten months and leave you all hanging HAHAHAHAHHAA


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to cherryburlesque for proofing work.

You arrive at Dirk’s apartment all dressed up in your winter gear. Half-melted snow clings to the fur of your hood and drips onto your face, but you don’t care right now. Clenched in your right hand is a small plastic bag. You shakily lift your left hand to knock on his front door. It opens almost instantly. Dirk stands before you, his shades off and his hair partially styled. One side of his head is half-arsed and still wet from his shower. There’s a long, awkward moment before Dirk steps aside and lets you in. Of course after your realization, you had called Dirk in a panic. The moment the words ‘I missed my period’ came out of your mouth, Dirk had caught on and instructed you to go to the closest pharmacy immediately.

“Uh. Hey. Did you get the stuff?” he asks. Listlessly, you lift the bag before dropping it on the couch and unzipping your coat. Dirk takes it from you and hangs it up. He’s wringing his hands, something you very rarely see him do.

“It could all just be nerves. It was an exciting past few months so maybe it’s just normal. Like, I’ve been irregular before, this isn’t new,” you say. Your voice trembles. “So this could all just be a needless fiasco.”

“Have you been drinking water?” Dirk asks. He pointedly ignores your excuses and rationalizing. His voice is deadly quiet and it makes your heart throb in your chest. You nod.

“Yes. And I got three different types of tests just in case,” you say, lifting the bag and pouring the contents out into your palm. Three different brands of pregnancy tests stare ominously back up at you. You feel like you’re going to puke again. “I just… I think it’s a mistake, Dirk! I mean… we used a condom and everything.”

Dirk stares at you for a moment before silently walking to his bedroom. He disappears for two minutes and returns with a chalk white face. A heavy weight rests in your chest as he sticks out his hand and deposits an empty condom wrapper in your palm. You look down at it.

At first you think it’s okay because the expiration clearly says 4/13.

Of 2012.

“This expired eight months before we had sex,” you state dumbly. Dirk throws his hands in the air.

“Yeah, Jane, no shit!” he snaps. You wince and he runs a hand furiously through his hair. “No fucking shit. I looked at the condom we used in the trash. Fuckin’ tore straight through it, like it wasn’t even fuckin’ there, it ain’t rocket science, ain’t never was rocket science, but I fuckin’ used it anyway like a god damn fuckin’ idiot, must’ve mistaked the year, _shit_.”

Dirk flops down onto the couch and hunches over, his face buried in his hands. You clench the pregnancy tests so hard that you have to consciously keep yourself from crushing them. Briefly, you’re disgusted that Dirk hasn’t emptied his wastebasket in all of this time, but you ignore the urge to say something and instead reach over to touch Dirk’s shoulder.

“Look, just… sorry, I’m flippin’ my shit. We don’t even know yet. Go an’… do what you have’ta do,” Dirk slurs, brushing your hand away. He compulsively runs his hand through his hair as you turn and go to the bathroom.

There, you clumsily unwrap the first test and read the instructions. You have to read them several times because your eyes are getting watery and blurry. Once you’ve got it down, you take a seat on the toilet and relax. You take care of business and shake the excess liquid off of your pregnancy test before wiping and standing. When you go to the bathroom door, you open it to find Dirk standing right there. You swallow.

“What does it say?” Dirk asks. His calm demeanor has returned and he has his thick accent dialed back to its usual slight twang. You frown and look at the blank spot on the test.

“I don’t think we’re going to know for a while,” you say, shaking the test and rubbing the screen, as if it’ll make the result come in faster. “We need to wait for a few minutes.”

Dirk stares at the test for a minute or so before he determinedly looks away and leads you to the living room, where he has you sit down on the couch. He sits beside you, rubbing his sweaty palms on his pantlegs. You can’t stop bouncing your knee and you can’t even look at the test. You turn it over so you can’t see the screen and look at the ceiling, trying to keep your tears under control. You can see Dirk out of the corner of your eye, looking straight at you with the most hurt and upset expression you’ve ever seen from him.

It’s going to be fine, you rationalize. You’ve had such a stressful past few months. Your period has skipped two months before! It’s okay! You know it’ll be okay, because you’re plain old Jane. Plain Jane. Nothing excruciatingly bad or incredibly good has happened to you, because you’re normal. Bad things don’t happen to you! This is just a stomach bug, and you and Dirk are going to laugh about this when all this hoopla is over with.

Yeah.

You’ll be fine.

You manage to compose yourself enough to flip over your pregnancy test and look.

All these years, you’ve been quite fond of the color pink because it’s Roxy’s very favorite color and it looks good with her strawberry blonde hair. But now, as you look upon the bright pink plus sign on the screen, you’ve never seen an uglier color. Out of defensive reflex, you let out a laugh.

“This must be defective. I better read those instructions again, I think the plus sign means that I’m not… you know,” you croak. Your voice is shaking and cracking all over the place. Still laughing, you shake the test again and try to focus on keeping your tears at bay. When the pink plus sign doesn’t disappear, you shake it almost violently. “Oh, hoohoo, these cheap little things are wrong all the time!”

“Jane…” Dirk says. He puts his hands on your shoulders and rubs your arms. You whip your head to look at him and blink rapidly. Three tears drip down your cheeks and you immediately look away to scrub them off your face. “Jane, just… here. Take another test. You’re right, those things are wrong sometimes, so yeah.”

Sniffling, you nod and stand from the couch. You grab the second pregnancy test from the table and repeat the procedure.

Ten minutes later, you and Dirk stare blankly down at the smiley face mocking you from the digital pregnancy test. You lean forward to grab the last test, but Dirk takes your hand gently in his.

“No more, Jane. The result won’t change,” Dirk says gently. You nod, sniffle, and allow Dirk to pull you in close and lie down in his lap. He pets your curly hair and thumbs away your tears, which are beginning to dry in the corner of your eyes. You fiddle with a rip in the knee of Dirk’s jeans.

“What do we do now?” you ask helplessly. Dirk’s hand stops on your head. He doesn’t answer for a long time, and instead wraps a curl of your hair around his pinky.

“I don’t know.”

Silence.

“You’re not going to leave, right?” you ask. Tears begin to freely fall now as your face scrunches up.

“What? No, of course not. What kind of insufferable douche do you take me for?”

“I-I don’t know, I’m just scared and I don’t know what to do. Dad’s going to… going to… be so _disappointed_ in me, what if he cuts my college funding?” you ask. Your glasses are fogging up as tears continue to pour from your eyes.

“I’ll cover any expenses you have if that happens. And of course, doctor visits and medication and anything you need, Janey, I won’t leave you hanging,” Dirk says. You sniff and sit up to look at him.

“D-Doctor visits? Don’t you want to… you know… terminate?” you ask. Dirk gives you a pained expression, then looks away.

“No,” he admits. He wrings his hands and picks at a hangnail. “Ultimately it’s your choice because I’m not the one who’s pregnant. But if I have even an _ounce_ of say at all, I just want to say that no, I don’t want that.”

“I don’t, either. I’ve heard horror stories about the procedures and it really makes me nervous,” you say. Dirk smiles weakly at you and seems to release a deep breath he had been holding.

“Alright. Then what’s our plan?”

“Adoption, I suppose,” you say. You rub your stomach through your sweater and swallow. “I mean, what else can we do? We’re both busy individuals… frankly, I’m just glad this is my last semester before I graduate. It would be dreadful to go about doing my studies with a big bun in the oven.”

“We can figure it out along the way. I’ll start bringing newspapers in to see if there are any couples putting ads in the paper. I can search online, too. Anything to help,” Dirk assures. He puts a hand on your shoulder. “I got you. Remember that one time when we were sixteen and I told you that, if shit were to hit the fan, I would be there in an instant, catching you in the plush, bulbous cleft of a massive foam ass?”

You wipe your eyes.

“Y-Yeah. So firm that you could bounce a quarter off of it?” you offer with a weak smile. Dirk grins.

“Fuck yeah. Well this is the shit hitting the fan, Crocker, and I’m going to be your knight in shining armor. Your handsome prince upon a glorious white steed.”

“Hehe, thank you, Dirk,” you say, pulling him in for a long hug. “You seem to be really passionate about this.”

“There’s one thing Dave did right when he raised me,” Dirk says as he pulls away and holds you by the shoulders. “I grew up with him constantly riding my ass about it, like, he’d come home and ask if I knocked up a chick today, I’d say no, then he’d say ‘atta boy’ and punch me in the dick. He gets riled up about it because apparently the guy who knocked up Rose left her when she was nineteen and never said a word to her again. Dave told me it left her a wreck and that he never wants to see me leave a woman in that condition. He also said he’d cut my dick off if I ever abandoned a woman after getting her pregnant.”

“Is that the only reason, then? You’re scared of being neutered by Mister Strider?” you giggle. Dirk snorts.

“Of course not. You’re my best friend, Jane. And I’d tell you that you’re like a sister to me, but that’d make the whole pregnancy situation even weirder.”

The word ‘pregnancy’ makes the joking tone die a little bit and you both sit in silence for a long, long while.

“It’s not officially confirmed until we see an actual doctor,” Dirk says. “So what do you say I call in and get an appointment set up?”

“That sounds great,” you say, somewhat sarcastically. Dirk gives your shoulder a firm squeeze.

“You’ll be fine. But you do understand that this is serious shit, right?” Dirk asks. “Right now it’s pretty obvious that you are pregnant. This appointment is more about… you know, setting dates for future appointments and making sure things are running smoothly.”

“I understand, but I don’t want to,” you laugh. Dirk gives you his hand and you take it so he can help you stand.

“I know,” he says, sympathy in his tone. “I’ve got a private set of doctors so they can get us in right away and test your urine sample right away. Have something to drink so you’re ready to do your business in that stupid piss cup.”

“Alright,” you say. You head into the kitchen while Dirk stays in the living room and calls his special ‘private’ doctors. Tch. Celebrities. You fill a cup with water from the fridge’s water dispenser and start drinking away, forcing yourself to drain glass after glass until you feel nauseous. You can feel the water sloshing around in your belly.

When you go back to the living room, Dirk doesn’t see you just yet, but you see him. He’s standing in the middle of the room, phone pressed to his ear as he speaks. You’ve never seen him look so tired and mutedly angry. Sure, you’ve seen him scream and shout and throw things across rooms, but you rarely see this sort of anger. It’s deep, directionless anger that comes from the bottommost pit of his chest and bubbles up out of his eye sockets like poison. There’s unspeakable loathing in his eyes that somewhat frightens you. It occurs to you that he’s not speaking with a doctor when he covers his eyes and makes a distressed noise.

“I fucked up, Bro. I fucked up so bad,” he moans into the receiver. “I don’t… I can’t fucking handle this shit, man.”

His voice breaks and he inhales sharply and looks at the ceiling. You watch him mouth numbers to himself.

“No, I’m not involved in a drug empire,” Dirk huffs. He runs his hand through his hair. “I… I fuckin’… Jane’s pregnant, man.”

Dirk jerks the phone away from his ear and you can hear shouting on the other end. You recognize the voice as Dave’s.

“No, no, dude, you don’t get it. _I’m_ the snot-nosed piece of shit punk ass bitch who knocked her up,” Dirk says. There’s a long, long pause.

 _“Well what the fuck are you gonna do about it, li’l man?”_ you hear Dave’s voice pierce the silence.

“I’m going to be a man,” Dirk replies. “And take care of the fucking mess I made.”

Dirk is quiet before he turns and sees you. He looks shocked for a moment upon seeing that you’re there, but then he hands the phone over.

“He wants to talk to you.”

You swallow and nod, coming forward and cautiously taking the phone.

“Hel-” you begin. You don’t get a chance to finish.

_“I’m goin’ta make m’self clear so you listen up an’ you listen up quick, if that li’l shit doesn’t fuckin’ take care of you you tell him I’m goin’ta come down there an’ beat that scrawny li’l ass until he’s black an’ blue an’ he goes cryin’ for his mama bless her heart, I swear to the lord Jesus Christ if you ain’t the happiest li’l lady on the face of this earth I’m goin’ta peel off that kid’s skin an’ use it to make a life raft so I can paddle my way to Africa an’ get some of that crazy voodoo shit so I can bring him back to life an’ blow his brains out with a sawn off shotgun, ya’hear?”_

“Yes sir,” you whisper. Dave sighs on the other end.

_“Good. You take care now, Jane, tell your dad I said hi.”_

Dave promptly hangs up. You frown and hand the phone to Dirk. He takes it and grimaces.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be, he’s just looking out for me is all,” you say, trying to smile. Dirk looks at the floor and, even though he looks ashamed and upset, he’s painfully handsome. Your arms act of their own accord and reach out to take Dirk’s face in your hands. He looks at you and that amber gaze is the darkest it has ever been. His eyes are bloodshot and watery. When you caress the shadows beneath his eyes, his lids flutter shut and he makes a pained noise like some sort of dying animal.

“No, I mean, I’m sorry,” he mumbles. His brows knit and spasm with emotion. “I’m sorry for everything. You don’t fucking deserve this. I fucked up and now you’re paying for it.”

“Hey…” you trail off. “C’mon now, this… this could be a lot worse. I could be stuck alone with my trousers down, I could be without a home! And I could’ve been in this situation with anyone, but… here I am with you. Given the circumstances, I’d say we caught a pretty lucky break! So please don’t beat yourself up so much, Strider, it makes my heart hurt.”

Dirk sighs and opens his eyes. He lets out a choked laugh.

“God. You are ever the glass half full to my glass half empty,” Dirk croaks. You smile.

“You need to have a bit more enthusiasm! A bit more pep in your step! A bit of optimism isn’t so bad, you know,” you say. You playfully punch his shoulder and he rubs it.

“Alright. But are you okay, Jane?” Dirk asks. His voice is low and solemn as he takes your hand in his and squeezes. You squeeze back.

“This is quite a pickle we’ve gotten ourselves into,” you admit. “And I reckon we’ll have quite a few bumps to go over during this whole thing! But there are a few people in this whole wide world that I trust with all my heart, and you’re one of them, Dirk. That’s why I’m confident that we’ll get through this just fine. It’s nothing to get our knickers in a bunch about, really.”

“I want you to remember saying this when you’re eight months pregnant and carrying around a bowling ball in your stomach all day,” Dirk jokes half-heartedly.

“I’m just trying not to completely blow a friggin’ gasket here, Dirk. The least you could do is humor me,” you groan. “I’m scared and disappointed by this turn of events, too. And no offense, but you’re not even carrying! All of the moping and the gasket-blowing should be my thing!”

“Fine, fine, deal. I suppose it would help if I was being less of a whiny bitch about this,” Dirk sighs. You grin.

“That’s the spirit. Now c’mon, call those doctors and let’s get this over with.”

“Yes, ma’am.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to cherryburlesque for proofing work.

“Alright, Miss Crocker, let us just run this through and we’ll be back soon with the results!” the nurse says as he takes your cup of urine with gloved hands and exits the room. You’re slightly embarrassed that Dirk had to look at your pee cup, but you don’t think he really minds. He’s seated in the guest chair beside you, his shades pushed up and resting on the top of his head. He’s scrolling through his iPhone while you sit on the examination table and kick your feet back and forth.

“Whatcha doing?” you ask. Dirk barely glances up.

“Research,” he says, brows knitting. “What I should expect, things I should look out for. That type of stuff.”

“Wow,” you say. You feel pretty flattered! “You’re taking this super seriously, aren’t you? Well… I mean, of course you are, and I am too, but you really don’t have to completely let this consume you.”

“I know. But do you think my brother is joking about cutting my dick off? He loves you. I love you, too. I couldn’t forgive myself if I fuck this up anymore than I already have,” Dirk says with finality. You blow a curl out of your face and roll your eyes.

“Oh for goodness sakes. You and Mister Strider both are such worry warts! I’m sure the doctor will tell us everything we need to know,” you say. Dirk grunts and keeps scrolling on his iPhone until you reach over and put your hand over the screen. He finally looks up at you. “Let’s hear what the trained, professional doctor has to say first before we start reading information online, okay?”

“Fair enough,” Dirk says. He pockets his phone, puts his shades back over his eyes, and crosses his arms. “How can you be so calm about this? You were so upset earlier, almost hysterical.”

“I blow up at first but then I calm down quickly. It’s just how I am,” you say with a shrug. Then, you grimace. “Besides, this is like a teacups ride at the amusement park compared to the moment I’ll have to tell my dad. How long do you think I can hide it from him?”

“Jane…”

“He’ll be so upset with me,” you groan. Dirk smiles a little.

“You’re twenty-one, not even a teenager anymore. I don’t think he’ll be as angry with you as you seem to think.”

“Then he’s probably going to kill you,” you whine. “Ugh, this whole situation is driving me bonkers. Where is the bloody nurse?”

“He left like five minutes ago.”

You groan loudly and fall back on the examination table, spreading your arms out on either side of you. Dirk chuckles and you hear the squeak of his chair as he gets up. He comes to the table and leans against it so he’s hovering over you.

“Be patient,” he says. You purse your lips at him.

“You say I’m calm,” you say. “You’re looking pretty aloof and stoic about this as well, Strider!”

“You can trust me when I say I don’t feel that way,” he says. He holds out his wrist and pulls up your hand to feel his pulse. It throbs powerfully against your thumb. “Also, you can’t see it, but I’m sweating like a pig in here.”

“You have two sweaters on,” you point out. Dirk clucks his tongue and hands you his shades before pulling a sweater up and over his head. His other sweater and undershirt catch and lift up as well, giving you a short glimpse of his flushed abdomen and the thin trail of blond hair that leads down into his pants. You swallow and look away as Dirk straightens himself.

“That’s better,” he says. The two of you sit in silence for a bit before you feel warmth on your stomach. You gasp and your skin twitches to get away from the surprise touch. You turn your head to look just as Dirk pulls his hand away. “…Sorry.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” you say quietly. A light blush rises to your cheeks. “Did you want to um… touch?”

“Only if you don’t mind.”

“Go ahead.”

You go quiet as Dirk carefully puts his hand on top of your sweater and starts rubbing up and down. A soft, wondrous sort of curiosity crosses his features before he pulls his hand away. You’re a bit disappointed until he reaches back down and traces the hem of your sweater with his fingertips. Swallowing, you nod a little and nibble your lip as he slowly tugs up your shirt so it’s bunched up under your breasts. He peers closely at your belly for a long time before lowering his hand. The sudden feeling of his warm fingertips on your stomach makes you squirm a bit and cover your eyes. His hand withdraws again.

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes immediately. You shake your head, a bit flustered.

“It’s… it’s fine! I’m just a little ticklish is all. As much as I appreciate you trying to be gentle, it’s okay for you to use a bit more pressure if you’d like! Your touches don’t have to all be feather-light,” you giggle. Dirk smirks and flicks your nose before returning his hand to your belly. He’s a bit bolder this time and lays his whole hand over your belly, his fingers applying soft pressure.

“Is this alright?”

“Mhm,” you hum with a nod. Dirk returns his focus to your stomach and rubs, his thumb applying light pressure as it glides over your skin. As his fingers brush over your hipbone, you exhale shakily. He pauses to look at you and, seeing you blush, he just chortles in that _kinda_ attractive deep voice of his.

“I think I can feel it,” he says. You flex your belly and he snatches his hand away in slight alarm. You stick your tongue out at him.

“I’m quite certain that, at this stage, the baby would be no bigger than my pinky or something. I don’t remember much from biology,” you laugh. “I think what you were feeling were my abs. And yes, I have those. I may be pudgy but I am a strong young woman!”

Dirk grins as he tugs your sweater back down.

“Damn right you are, Crocker.”

You’re about to say something more when there’s a soft knock on the door. You nurse re-enters, smiling and holding a clipboard under his arm.

“We got the results back, and we are pleased to tell you that you are about fourteen weeks along in a healthy, normal pregnancy!” he announces. “Congratulations.”

You give a weak smile as you and Dirk exchange looks. The nurse frowns.

“Now, if this was an unintended pregnancy, we can discuss possible means for termination.”

“That won’t be necessary,” you say. “I’ll be going through with the pregnancy.”

“Alright,” the nurse says, looking relieved to get away from the solemn topic of abortion. “Now… you, are you the father?”

The nurse turns to Dirk and he nods once.

“Yes.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” the nurse says with a cheerful smile. “Also, Miss Crocker, I looked up your insurance and found that you are still named under your father’s policy. Would you like to charge the expenses to that account?”

You think for a long moment, but Dirk speaks up first.

“Actually I will be paying for today’s visit out of pocket,” he says, patting his wallet. The nurse smiles.

“Alright, Mr. Strider. Unfortunately your requested doctor was out today, but you can set monthly appointments with that specific doctor for check-ups and any vitamin supplements Miss Crocker may need,” the nurse says. “Today is the… twenty-first? Yes. Then we will set appointments for the twenty-first of March, April, et cetera.”

“Sounds perfect,” Dirk says. He shakes the nurse’s hand. “Thanks for your help.”

“Of course. Now, are there any other questions you have for me?” he asks with a smile. You sit up and sit on the edge of the examination table.

“Yes, are there specific things I should avoid?” you ask. The nurse nods.

“Of course you have your obvious ones such as smoking or drinking or drug use,” he lists on his fingers.

“Um… during Christmas I had a bit of eggnog with rum in it…” you trail off. The nurse chuckles.

“That should be just fine, Miss Crocker. I’m talking more about excessive consumption of alcohol. But I suggest that you avoid alcohol altogether just to be safe. You should also avoid raw foods, namely fish. Pretty much anything that sounds ‘risky’ to you, you shouldn’t consume. Anything you eat goes to your baby as well, so keep that in mind when you eat a meal,” the nurse says. “You’re already right at the end of your first trimester, so I assume the majority of any nausea you’ve had is gone?”

“I feel a bit better than I have, but still a little sickish, I suppose.”

“That’s a good sign! A small percentage of women have morning sickness throughout their entire pregnancy, but it looks like you’re going to kick this sickness easily,” the nurse says with an encouraging pat. “So just take it easy, get lots of rest and drink lots of fluids. You have some hard work coming your way in these next few months, so you’ll want to be at the top of your game! And you’ll have your boyfriend with you too, of course.”

Neither you nor Dirk correct the nurse because it doesn’t make you uncomfortable or anything, and you assume that Dirk would rather get out of here rather than sit around explaining that he’s not your boyfriend to the nurse.

“Alright, thank you very much!” you say. The nurse nods and gestures to you and Dirk.

“If you can come this way, we can take your payment and get your next appointment scheduled.”

* * *

“My head hurts,” you sigh, closing your eyes and reclining a bit in the passenger seat of Dirk’s car. He looks over at you with slight concern.

“Really? You feeling alright besides that?” he asks. He reaches over to briefly feel your forehead. You stick out your tongue at him and swat him away from your forehead.

“Goodness gracious, yes, I’m fine. I’m just kind of hungry and tired, and I don’t much feel like explaining this to my father,” you say. Dirk gives a nervous laugh.

“I know how you feel,” he says. You smile a little, not opening your eyes.

“I can see it now; the headlines read ‘Murder Mystery! Famous Inventor Dirk Strider Found Dead in a Ditch’,” you tease. Dirk groans.

“Not helping,” he says as he turns into your driveway and pulls up right to the garage door. You swallow because your dad is home early today.

“I guess we don’t have much time to plan,” you say weakly. You swallow and step out of the car. Dirk gets out after you and waits on his side of the car for you to come around to the stone path up to your porch. He puts a hand on the small of your back and the two of you walk up to the house. There, you take a deep breath and open the door. Your dad looks up at you from his recliner, where he has a bowl of popcorn in his lap. His fedora rests on the small table beside him, and a black and white movie is playing on the television. He smiles when you enter.

“Welcome home, Jane! Hello, Mister Strider! Would you like to watch _It’s a Wonderful Life_ with me?” he asks cheerfully. He must’ve had a good day at work, so it makes you feel even guiltier as you walk into the house. You stoop down to pick up the remote from the coffee table, pause the movie, then turn it off. Your father gives you a confused look. “Is everything quite alright, pumpkin?”

“Um, well…” you begin. You wring your hands and Dirk goes to you to put a supportive hand on your shoulder. Swallowing, you go to sit down on the couch and Dirk follows suit. Dad’s eyebrows come together. “Daddy, I have something to tell you.”

Now your father is really suspicious. He puts the footrest of his recliner down and sets his popcorn aside, looking like he’s about to stand up.

“Nono, don’t stand. It’s… well…” you stammer. You scratch the back of your neck and take a deep breath. “Dad, I’m pregnant.”

Your father stares long and hard at you, his lips somewhat half-pulled up into a strange grimace, as if he doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry. He takes a breath, pauses, then chokes out a laugh and looks around as if you’re pranking him in public. You just continue frowning and looking sadly at him while it sinks in.

“…Excuse me?” he finally asks. You blush.

“I’m pregnant.”

“What on earth? I-” he breathes. He runs hand over his bald spot and grasps a handful of hair for a moment. “I don’t quite understand, love.”

“I’m going to have a baby,” you say, a bit frustrated now.

“Right, right, of course, let me just…” Dad trails off. He picks up his fedora and pipe from his side table and goes into shut down mode, pulling the brim of his fedora down low over his brow. “Yes, yes, and who’s the father?”

Dirk tenses beside you.

“I’m the father, sir,” Dirk says bravely. His voice cracks. Dad freezes for a long, long time and you think he may have had a stroke. Just when you start to stand, his pipe falls out of his hand and clatters to the floor.

Then, in a blur of movement, Dad Crocker brings himself to his full height and grabs Dirk by the collar. Dirk lets out a choked sound as he’s easily lifted. Dad rears his fist back.

“ _You done fucked up, son_ ,” he snarls in a voice that isn’t his whatsoever.

“Dad!” you yell, diving at your father and grabbing onto his arm. He turns a furious eye to you as Dirk struggles in his grasp. “Dad. Daddy…”

His eyes melt as you pout your lip and he sets Dirk down. Dirk falls back onto the couch, clutching his chest and panting.

“Jane,” he says sharply. You flinch. “I can’t, in a right mind, be happy about this. I have no idea what to do with you. Obviously I can’t punish you, as you’re an adult and it’s not legal for me to. I have half a mind to send you off to figure things out on your own, but as a father I also cannot do that. What do you suggest I do, Jane? What can I do to properly express my utter disappointment in you?”

You hate it when he asks you patronizing questions like this.

“I’m sorry,” you say, and you mean it genuinely. He sighs and shakes his head before turning on Dirk.

“And what do _you_ have to say for yourself?”

“I am fully aware of the situation and I am willing to support Jane every step of the way. I will pay for every doctor visit, prescription, and procedure directly out of pocket. If you tell me to stay away from Jane, I’m afraid I can’t do that, Mister Crocker. I will take responsibility for my mistake,” Dirk says.

“ _Our_ mistake,” you correct weakly. Dad just sighs and rubs his temples.

“I’m too old for this,” he mutters. “Alright. Mister Strider, it is not necessary to pay out of pocket. My insurance policy covers Jane until she’s twenty-four, thanks to Obamacare.”

“Then I will pay any and all hospital bills,” Dirk says with finality. “And I will not accept no for an answer.”

“Very well. Despite the circumstances, I am very proud of your maturity regarding the situation. Both of you,” Dad says. “Now… how about dinner?”

Relieved that the initial anger seems to have passed, you allow Dad to go into the kitchen before sitting down beside Dirk on the couch. He wraps you up in his arms and just holds you like that, letting you bury your face in his chest.

“I feel like I’m becoming more and more of a burden to my father with every passing day,” you mumble into Dirk’s shirt.

“He doesn’t view you as a burden and you know that.”

“I know he doesn’t _see_ me as one. But that doesn’t mean that I’m _not_ one. I’m twenty-one and I still live with my dad. It’s kind of pathetic.”

Dirk laughs.

“Jane, you’re being ridiculous. Think about what you’re saying. You’re in college! You don’t have much time for jobs and you certainly can’t afford an apartment right now.”

You sigh.

“I suppose you’re right,” you say. “But seeing as I will soon be done with college altogether and moving on to my next big dream in life, I should look into finding a place of my own.”

Dirk is quiet for a long time, just absently rubbing your back and just being an overall good friend. You snuggle up close with him and he drapes the blanket from the back of the couch on your shoulders. Surrounded by heat, you feel yourself relaxing against him and being comforted by his platonic hold. You wonder if people ever think of simply having a child with their best friend rather than making a whole fiasco about getting married and being in love and all of that mumbo-jumbo. These thoughts are cut short when Dirk speaks up.

“You’ve never told me much about where you want to go in life,” Dirk says. You look up at him questioningly. “Like, I know you want to have a big company that rivals Betty Crocker and all that, but what else?”

You laugh.

“You can’t be serious, Dirk. I don’t want to own a big company at all!” you say. Dirk tilts his head.

“No?”

“No. It seems much too boring, don’t you think? And with all of that processed junk… no, no, I’d much rather have my customers get their sugar fix with something a bit more hand-crafted. I’d like to own my very own bakery. Not just any bakery, of course. I want it to be the best bakery in the whole world. Or… at least the best bakery in all of Washington.”

“I see,” Dirk says. You hear the smile in his voice and it warms your heart a little. “Well, my calculations show that you have exactly a hundred percent chance of achieving those dreams.”

“Aw, you’re so sweet,” you say, purposely biting your lip to give yourself buck teeth. Dirk pokes his tongue out at you. “How about you, then? You don’t speak much about what you want to do. What are your dreams?”

Dirk thinks for a long time, so long that it makes you frown a little. His brow is creased above his shades.

“I guess I don’t have any huge goals in my life right now,” he finally admits. “I’ve… done everything, I guess. Built the Auto Responder, became a millionaire before I hit age twenty, and I have advanced modern robotics far beyond what was imaginable five years ago. I mean, the only thing I haven’t achieved is win a Nobel Peace Prize, but I honestly couldn’t care less about a little statue trophy thing and a couple thousand bucks.”

You hum as you pick at a fray in his sweater. When he’s with you like this, it sometimes makes you forget how much impact this man has made on society. It’s somewhat humbling.

“There are other things in life that you could do,” you say slowly.

“Like what, exactly?”

_Fall in love, get married, have a baby, create a family._

“Own an amusement park,” you mumble. Dirk chuckles, low and soft.

“Yeah. Now that’s a dream I can get behind.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to cherryburlesque for proofing work.

At first, being pregnant isn’t too bad. Sure, for the first week or so, you’re still puking a bit, but it soon fades and it’s almost like you’re not pregnant at all. Well, except that your appetite has increased significantly and that you’re suddenly getting a taste for foods you hated before. At one point you ask your father to make a soy sauce and cottage cheese smoothie and end up crying when it doesn’t taste as yummy as you originally thought.

Okay, so maybe it’s getting to you just a little.

Dirk comes over every single day for hours at a time to either help clean around the house or (attempt) to help you cook. You show him the ropes and, by the end of February, he can successfully flip a hamburger without dropping the patty on the floor. Dad seems to enjoy the company despite the circumstances. He’s cold with Dirk at first, but soon treats him like a son. You come to find that Dirk is very diligently doting, but often forgets to take care of himself. You become somewhat of a little pager for him, reminding him to shower or eat or wash his jeans.

Of course Rose finds out about your pregnancy from Dave, ends up asking Roxy about it, who in turn calls Jake at four in the morning screaming like a banshee. It had been a really awkward day when Roxy and Jake literally tried busting down your front door to confront you, only to be cut short when Jake dislocated his shoulder from the impact with the door. While the four of you were at the hospital putting his arm back in its socket, you and Dirk had explained the situation. That made things very, very tense between all of you.

Roxy hasn’t talked to you for almost a month now. Jake limits his communication with Dirk mostly, but sometimes stops by with rental movies to watch with you when Dirk’s not around. He has also taken a liking to putting his hands all over your belly and exclaiming loudly that he can feel a bump, even though you exasperatedly have to remind him each time that it’s just your normal tummy flab.

Honestly, you’re surprised how much this whole thing has affected your relationships with your friends. You don’t know if Roxy’s angry with you or jealous or whatever. Even Rose is just a tad cool with you, and you soon find that Dave of all people has been avoiding talking to you and Dirk. It’s very unsettling, and as February blends into March blends into April, you find yourself getting increasingly upset with the separation. You thought that all of this hostility was just a silly _’16 and Pregnant’_ and _‘Juno’_ myth. As it turns out, it’s true.

It _hurts_.

You can’t even bring yourself to make a single joke on April Fool’s Day, even though your father gets you with a pie in the face. You laugh at the time but inside you are hurting and you don’t even have your pink, silly, slightly alcoholic BFF to vent to.

Dirk, however, is there with you through thick and thin. He’s there for you when you call him at three in the morning. He’s there when you cry into his shoulder. He’s there for every mood swing, every craving for weird foods, and every self conscious moment in which you’re convinced you’ve already gained five hundred pounds and you aren’t even showing yet. He shows more and more of his ‘man’ traits and his ‘boy’ traits become less and less important to you. You find yourself admiring that beaky nose more often.

And as time goes by and your fondness towards Dirk increases, you find that… you’re becoming less and less eager to look at the ads in the newspapers.

One day when visiting Dirk’s house, you find a promising ad in the paper but make up a ridiculous excuse to yourself (‘their last names are strange, the baby might get teased at school’) and throw away the ads. You feel incredibly guilty after that, eat a half gallon of ice cream, and cry about it afterwards. Dirk, of course, comforts you throughout the episode even though he doesn’t know why you’re upset.

By your fifth month of pregnancy, you are thoroughly miserable on the inside, but you try to remain positive.

* * *

 

“Jane?”

You look up as there’s a light rap on the door. Dirk enters your bedroom while you’re standing in front of your mirror your shirt bunched up around your armpits.

“Hey Dirk, was there any mail for me?” you ask casually, continuing to stare in the mirror and turn your body back and forth.

“Nope, just your Dad’s weird grey ladies magazine and a few spam letters,” Dirk replies. He sits down on your bed. “What are you doing, exactly?”

“Trying to see the bump,” you say, pushing your stomach out for a second before sucking it in. “Do you see anything?”

“Maybe,” Dirk says after a moment of squinting. You pout.

“Are you sure the doctor is going to be able to see a bloody thing? I mean, cripes, I thought there would at least be a teeny tiny bump by now!” you say. Dirk shrugs.

“Dave once told me that Rose looked like a balloon four months in when she was pregnant with Roxy.”

“That’s because she’s skinny!” you groan. “Maybe it’s because I already look like a big ugly blimp.”

“Hey, don’t diss the pudge,” Dirk says sternly. “I for one love me a soft woman.”

You blush a bit and smile over your shoulder as you pull your shirt back down and smooth it out.

“I hope they’ll be able to find the baby during the ultrasound. When do we leave for the appointment?” you ask. “I’ve been holding off on going to the bathroom all day, and I’m quite certain my bladder is going to explode if I don’t get this over with soon!”

“My car’s running. I came over to pick you up,” Dirk says, getting to his feet. He offers you his arm. “M’lady?”

You laugh and smack his elbow, which makes him grin.

“I must say, I’m pretty excited for this! The very first ultrasound!” you exclaim, bounding down the stairs and patting your belly when you reach the first floor. Dirk follows after you, an easy smile on his face. “I’d like to invest in a two-part frame, perhaps so I can put today’s ultrasound picture in on one side, and then the last ultrasound’s picture on the other.”

“Why? Won’t it be weird to have pictures of ultrasound scans in your house when there’s no baby? Oh, but we could probably gift the pictures to the adoptive parents,” Dirk muses. He goes to the front door and passes you your spring coat before grabbing an umbrella from the umbrella holder beside the door. “Alright, ready?”

You’ve been so busy staring blankly at the floor as you’re reminded that the baby is being given to another couple that you don’t register Dirk’s question at first. When he calls your name, you jump and shake your head.

“Yes. Yes, I’m ready,” you say. You throw on your jacket and allow Dirk to hold the door open for you as you step out onto the porch. The weatherman hadn’t been kidding about scattered spring showers. As you watch the rain pour, Dirk opens up the umbrella, pulls you close to him, and makes sure you get the majority of the umbrella as he walks you out to the passenger side of his car. Once you’re safely inside, he collapses the umbrella on the way around to the driver side and tosses it into the backseat before flopping into the driver seat.

“Pretty shitty out, huh?” he asks as he turns on his windshield wipers and backs out of the driveway.

“Yeah,” you sigh, staring out the window and watching the puddles gather rain. “Pretty cruddy.”

* * *

 

“Oooh!”

“Cold?” Doctor Rosa Maryam asks as she glances up from between your legs. You snort and nod; the fashionable and kind-hearted woman smiles back at you. She’s quite possibly the kindest doctor you’ve ever met, and it makes you grateful that Dirk has a special set of private doctors.

“Just a trifle!” you hiss as the cold speculum holds you open while Doctor Maryam inspects your vagina. You curl your toes and Dirk, who’s sitting beside you on a stool, laughs. He painted your toenails blue a few nights before and is now admiring his handiwork as your feet are put on display on the stirrups that hold them up.

“Everything is looking quite well and healthy, Miss Crocker! But just to be sure, has any of your normal, day-to-day vaginal discharge been discolored or odorous?”

“Nope.”

“Have you felt any discomfort or sharp pain in your abdominal region?”

“No sirree!”

“And one last question; have you experienced any discomfort or burning during urination?”

“Negative, ghost rider.”

You giggle as the doctor smiles and stands to let your legs down from the stirrups.

“Alright, then! Now that the pesky pelvic exam is out of the way, now we can get to the fun part. I’ll go heat up the gel while the nurse gets the ultrasound set up,” Doctor Maryam says. She bustles out of the room and leaves you and Dirk alone with the nurse, who whistles as he assembles the ultrasound machine. Dirk is staring at it thoughtfully, rubbing his chin.

“Penny for your thoughts?” you ask. Dirk looks at you and his lips quirk upwards.

“I’m thinking of designing a new, more efficient method of looking inside a woman’s womb. Don’t give me that look; you know there was no innuendo intended. The ultrasound machine requires a lot of hassle and is quite a primitive machine if you ask me. Not many steps have been taken to improve this technology, and I think it is overdue for an upgrade,” Dirk rambles. You just smile affectionately at him. You like his little tirades.

The doctor comes in a moment later with a tube of the ultrasound gel in her hand.

“Okay, I’ve got this nice and warmed up for you,” Doctor Maryam says, holding out the tube for you to feel. “Is it a good temperature for you? Not too warm?”

“Yep,” you say. Doctor Maryam nods, then begins to apply the gel to your lower abdomen. The way the cover-up paper is draped over your nether regions and legs reveals a tiny bit of your pubic fuzz. It’d be embarrassing if Dirk wasn’t so focused on staring at the screen of the ultrasound.

Once the gel is applied, Doctor Maryam disposes her gel-covered glove and puts on a new one before grabbing the ultrasound wand and pressing it to your belly. She rotates it slightly to get it in place and watches the screen as an image slowly appears. Both you and Dirk squint at the screen.

“Oh,” is what Dirk says when the image comes into focus and a very definitive shape appears.

“See it?” Maryam asks softly. She points to various parts of the shape on the screen. “Here’s the head and its legs… would you like to know the gender?”

You and Dirk exchange glances.

“I don’t think I can handle any more surprises for one lifetime,” you admit with a chortle. “How about you?”

“You’re right. That and, if we know the sex of the baby, we can advertize that it’ll be a boy or a girl in the newspapers,” Dirk says. He looks away from you and at the screen while you frown up at him, feeling more than a little bit hurt about what he just said. Maryam catches your face and clears her throat.

“Well… typically ultrasounds are done in the eighteen-to-twenty week range, but since you’re in your twenty second week, it has given the baby a chance to develop a little more and make determining the sex a little easier for us! I’m happy to say that this little one is most certainly a baby girl!” Maryam says. “Congratulations!”

“A girl,” Dirk echoes. You smile at him just as you catch the first flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. However, he nods and the look disappears. “Awesome.”

“Yes. And what’s even better, everything is looking perfectly normal and healthy. She’s in the right position, and from what I see, everything seems to be developing properly. Taking good care of yourself I see, Miss Crocker,” Maryam says proudly. “Would you like to hear the heartbeat?”

“I don’t think-” Dirk begins, but you cut him off.

“Yes please!” you blurt. Your voice is somewhat sharp, so Dirk doesn’t comment. Maryam nods and flips a switch on the machine beside her. She turns up the dial and, beneath the normal sound of static and the sounds your body usually makes, you can hear a tiny heartbeat that makes your chest seize up. You stare up at the ceiling while Maryam kindly allows you to bask in what is quite possibly the most gorgeous sound you’ve ever heard in your entire life. You know it’s ridiculously cliché and overdramatic, but you’re pregnant and allowed to be emotional, darn it!

Before you can help yourself, your face screws up and you start to cry like a big baby. Maryam coos at you and laughs, soothingly patting your arm.

“Aww. Would you like me to send you home with some pictures of the ultrasound?” Maryam asks in a soft and gentle tone. You nod stupidly, fat tears still running down your face. You feel Dirk stroke your arm up and down and carefully remove your glasses so he can thumb away your tears. Maryam allows you to listen for a few minutes longer before she, too soon, lowers the volume and switches off the speakers. You’re still whimpering and Dirk is comfortingly stroking your hair. He doesn’t look too happy, however. Maryam has the nurse clean the gel off your abdomen, then run off to print off your ultrasound photos. Once you’re composed again, Maryam speaks up. “From here on out the little dear will get bigger and bigger quicker and quicker, so I suggest that you begin looking into purchasing some maternity clothing if you haven’t already. Since she’s going to be an autumn baby and your entire third trimester will take place in the months of July, August, and September, with September being the month of the due date, you’re going to want to keep cool. Overheating while pregnant can be very serious if not treated with caution!”

“Oh, I didn’t even think of that,” you say, worried. “Hopefully it doesn’t get too warm this year!”

“Hopefully,” Maryam says. She looks up as the nurse comes in with the ultrasound pictures. He gently tucks them into a manila folder before passing it to Maryam, who passes it to you. “Here you go! Now, unless there are any other questions regarding the pregnancy, can I expect to see you back for next month’s checkup?”

“I don’t have any questions, thank you,” you say. You feel a tap and look over to see Dirk handing you your glasses. You take them and put them on before reaching out to shake Doctor Maryam’s hand. “And yes, I will most certainly be back.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” Doctor Maryam says. She and her nurse shake Dirk’s hand before they leave you to get back into your clothes. Dirk passes you the bundle of clothing and you slip them on before adjusting yourself and slipping into your shoes.

“Ready?” Dirk asks. His voice is low and solemn again. It makes your body tense up ever so slightly.

“Mhm,” you say. You allow Dirk to lead you out of the room. You go to the counter and Dirk pays the co-pay before the two of you leave together and get in his car. It’s still pouring out, now with a bit of thunder and lightning. It’s slightly darker now and it’s pretty much raining sideways outside.

The two of you are silent in the car. You’re currently arguing with yourself. Should you bring it up to Dirk? Should you just stay quiet? Why are you even doubting yourself? It’s your body, he doesn’t have a say in the matter. Yeah. You open your mouth to say something.

“I know what you’re thinking and the answer is no,” Dirk says, his tone harsh. You stare at him.

“ _What?_ ” you ask. “I didn’t even _say_ anything!”

“You don’t have to. I know you, Jane,” Dirk says lowly. He stares straight ahead at the road. You’re grateful he has his sunglasses off for driving, but his eyes are icy. “That is precisely why I didn’t want to listen to that heartbeat. I didn’t want to see you so upset, but you insisted and now here we are with you making impulse decisions.”

“I’ve been thinking about it for a long time!” you snap, anger bubbling up in your chest. How _dare_ he! “This isn’t even your choice to make!”

“I’m not deciding for you. I’m saying that keeping it is a bad idea. This is so much bigger than you can even imagine. Babies aren’t cuddles and playtime and certainly not simple. They’re time consuming, they’re _huge_ fucking commitments and they require two fucking people to raise!”

“What, you think my dad didn’t raise me right, huh?!”

“Wh- no, for fuck’s sake that’s not what I mean, Jesus.”

“Then what do you mean, Strider? What on earth could you possibly mean by ‘they require two people to raise’ other than my own dad was a great big failure as a parent because my mom _died?_ ”

“I’m saying it’s not the preferred circumstance!” Dirk barks, slamming his palms down on the steering wheel. “I’m sure every fucking kid in the world would love to grow up with both parents in their life, I’m sure you wish your mom had been around, and _I sure as shit wish my parents had been around!”_

“But we _are_ around!” you shout, clapping your hands as if to wake Strider up.

“Don’t fucking clap at me like that.”

“We’re right _here_ , Dirk! _You_ , the father, and _me_ , the mother! Both parents!”

“My parents didn’t fucking stick around for me and Dave, what makes you so sure that _I’ll_ stick around?” Dirk questions loudly. He suddenly slams on the brakes and you shriek as the car skids to a halt. He had almost crossed a busy intersection without stopping at the red light. “Who knows, I could get cold feet and walk out like the cowardly little shit I am!”

“Be careful!” you yell as you clutch your seatbelt as hard as you can. You whimper and wipe at your eyes as they start to well up with tears. “Dave didn’t leave you.”

“Because Dave doesn’t hate himself and he doesn’t wish he was dead for being a manipulative, cold-hearted bastard,” Dirk spits. “Dave doesn’t hide behind logic and sarcasm when he’s freaked the fuck out, he dives into life like the god damn successful man he is. He wasn’t and isn’t the type of person who would run away.”

“But-”

“I’m not raising that baby,” Dirk hisses through gritted teeth. He’s pushing seventy miles an hour in the pouring rain and you clutch your seat with white knuckles as one side of the car hydroplanes and sends up a shower of water. “I’m not putting another _me_ into this world.”

“Slow down, _please_ ,” you beg, tears falling freely down your face. He realizes his speed and curses before carefully applying the brakes and slowing down. “I want to get out, right now.”

Dirk looks over at your crying face and turns his glare back to the road ahead of him.

“You’re not walking around in this fucking rain.”

“ _LET ME OUT RIGHT FUCKING NOW!”_ you screech. The volume of your voice startles Dirk. When he comes to a stop at a stop sign, you start to take off your seat belt but he locks your car door. You furiously pull at the handle but of course it’s no use, so you do the only thing you can do. You sob into your hands and cry all the way to your house. The moment Dirk’s parked and your door is unlocked, you launch yourself out of his car and slam his door so hard you’re surprised his window didn’t shatter.

Stomping around the front of the car, you try to hurry past Dirk, but he gets out and walks briskly to you.

“Jane,” he says. He reaches out for you but you slap him away.

“I’m keeping her!” you shout. His eyebrows come together in anger, even though he’s squinting against the rain pelting his face.

“Listen to yourself,” he says. “You’re being fucking stupid.”

“You know, you of all people I expected to be on my side,” you yell, poking him accusingly in the chest. “But no, I can’t have that either!”

He tries grabbing your hand multiple times but you wrench it out of his grasp.

“You’re not the one going through this! You’re not the one being completely ignored by your own friends because of something you can’t take back!” you continue. “You have _no right_ to make _any_ decisions for me!”

“Yeah, and I’m saying that _my_ decision is that _I_ don’t want to raise that baby!”

“Fine! Fine!” you bark. “That’s just dandy because, because I’m going to raise her myself and she’s going to be a swell little tyke!”

“Jane, don’t be-”

He reaches for you again and you violently shove him away.

_“STOP TRYING TO GRAB ME!”_

There’s a loud slam and the two of you look up as Dad Crocker comes rocketing outside, rolling up his sleeves as he goes. Before either of you can react, he reels back his fist and punches Dirk full on in the jaw, sending the Strider to the ground. Dirk stays down, and despite everything you’re relieved he doesn’t get up. Dad grabs you roughly and yanks you into the house before slamming the front door so hard that the window panes rattle. He locks it and pulls the curtains.

“Did he lay a finger on you?” Dad asks, raw fury in his eyes. You look away.

“Dad-”

_“Janine Kyung, you answer me this instant.”_

“N-No.”

You’re crying again, you’re soaking wet, and you can hear the sound of a car pulling out of the driveway even over the sound of the thunder. Dad’s hands soften their hold on your arms before he pulls you in for a crushing hug, wet clothes and all. You bury your face in his shirt and allow yourself to fall apart in his arms.

“I’m sorry he hurt you. I don’t know what he did but I am so sorry,” Dad says, clutching you close. You can feel his heart pounding in his chest and you know he had been terrified. “I just saw you yelling and him trying to grab you, and I just reacted, I do hope that you don’t resent me for what happened.”

“Maybe it was a little dramatic,” you joke teasingly. Dad croaks out a laugh. “I don’t think Dirk would’ve hurt me, but I’m really happy that you’re here.”

“Of course, pumpkin, I will always be here no matter what happens. And of course I will never hesitate to beat the stuffing out of any man who _dares_ grab at my precious baby girl like that.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> two words: dad crocker
> 
> Special thanks to cherryburlesque for proofing work.

“What are you up to?”

You look up with a glow in your cheeks as your father enters your room with a tray of tea in his hands. You’re lying down on your bed with a set of headphones pressed to your belly. It’s week twenty four of your pregnancy, two weeks since your last doctor’s appointment, and you are literally days away from graduating college as your final exams rapidly approach. It’s May 9th today, a Saturday. Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday are your scheduled exam dates. Next Saturday, May 16th, you’ll be graduating and receiving your bachelor’s degree in the culinary arts. Your dad can’t be prouder, and you can’t be more relieved to finally be done.

“I was reading online and it said that the baby’s hearing is developed by now, so I thought I’d let her listen to some music. It must be dreadfully boring being cooped up all day,” you say. Dad smiles and goes to your bed, where he sits beside your legs and sets the tea tray in his lap. He gestures for you to give him the headphones. You hand it to him and he takes a quick listen before handing them back and smiling.

“Smooth jazz? That’s my girl,” he says. You beam up at him and replace the headphones delicately on the small bump that has finally begun to form. Your dad sighs. “Jane, I’ve been meaning to talk to you. I wanted to tell you that Mister Strider came by yesterday while you were still asleep to drop off the payment for the hospital bills. He asked to see you and I forbade him… was I in the wrong?”

You think for a moment.

“No. I don’t know if I’m ready to see him yet,” you say.

“Hm…” Dad hums. “Alright. Jane, I’ve been thinking and… well, I’d very much like to know what your argument was about, if you don’t mind.”

“Oh! I didn’t tell you? I’m sorry.”

“No, no! It’s quite alright. I just assumed that you weren’t up for talking to your old man about it.”

“Awww,” you coo, sitting up and hugging your father. “Well… we got in an argument about how I wanted to keep the baby and he… didn’t. Well, that’s not fair. I mean, he didn’t say he didn’t want to _keep_ the baby, but he did say he didn’t want to raise her. So… I suppose that’s essentially the same thing!”

Dad thinks for a long time and you worry your lip between your teeth, wondering what his reaction will be.

“You want to keep the baby?”

“Yes. I feel… bonded in ways I can’t explain. And I suppose Dirk just doesn’t understand that because he’s not the one carrying the bloody thing!” you say. Sighing, you rub your belly. “I wish Dirk could see it my way.”

Dad nods slowly and looks down at the tea tray, lost in thought.

“Jane, pumpkin, just… please consider what you’re saying. Don’t be offended. Take it from your father, who has raised a young woman all on his own. It’s difficult, more difficult than you can _possibly_ imagine. And you were a planned baby, and you were already through the hardest few months of infancy when your mother passed. The only thing that got me through each day was my _overwhelming_ love for you. Remember that this isn’t like playing house. You can’t quit the game halfway through because you’re tired or fed up. It is an eighteen year emotional and financial commitment that you _cannot_ dismiss. Sometimes more. Are you prepared to love this baby so much that you would lay down your life for her?”

“Yes,” you answer without hesitation. Dad nods.

“Then I respect your decision,” he says. “You are a smart and mature young woman. You’re strong and stubborn and I know I won’t sway your opinion by badgering you about it. And you won’t be alone. To be honest, I very much enjoy having you around to keep me company. It takes some of the pain of being an old widowed man away.”

You take your dad’s hand in yours and hold it up against your cheek. He smiles a bit tearfully.

“When you’ve lived with your baby girl so long you forget she’s growing up. And then before you know it, she’s creating a family of her own and slipping out of your fingers. It’ll… it’ll mean a lot to hear little feet running around this old, lonely house again,” he says, his voice breaking. He looks away to dab a few tears away with his hanky. “I’ve always wanted to be a grandfather.”

“Ohhh, Daddy!” you cry. You throw your arms around your father and make him laugh as you squeeze him tightly. You kiss him right on the cheek. “I love you too.”

“Now then! Hem- _hem_ ,” your father says as he straightens and firmly clears his throat. “Enough of this wishy-washiness! We have a duty, Jane, as manly individuals of Crocker descent! Will you don your mustache, my good sir?”

You grin and turn in your bed to grab your trusty mustache from its place on your bedside table. You stick it on and flex your arms.

“Mangrit powers, activate!” you and Dad recite. When you were a little girl and afraid of the lightning, he’d draw a mustache on your face and the two of you would go around the house activating your mangrit and flexing dramatically.

“Well, I brought tea but now it’s cold,” Dad says with a laugh. “So I suppose that brings me to my original reason for coming up here. I’ve been thinking, lately, and I think we are long overdue for a good old fashioned father-daughter excursion! I would like to take you shopping, Jane, for anything you think you need. Fresh pillows, clothes, shoes, anything you’d like. I thought today would be a fine day to go shopping for some maternity clothes, what do you think?”

You gape at your dad.

“You mean it?” you ask excitedly. Dad nods. You bounce up and down on the bed before leaping to your feet. You stand much too fast and, because your center of gravity has shifted, you stumble. Dad is ridiculously quick to set the tea tray aside and stand to help steady you.

“Yes, of course,” he says with a sigh of relief and slight exasperation. “Put on some comfy clothes and meet me downstairs in ten minutes, deal?”

“Deal!”

Ten minutes later you cheerfully come downstairs, where your father is standing on the porch with a pipe. The front door is open but the screen door is closed, keeping the majority of the smoke outside. You smile at your dad’s thoughtfulness before putting on your flip-flops and waiting by the front door.

“It’s really nice out,” you comment. Your dad hums in agreement. It’s nice and sunny with a breeze. It’s about seventy degrees out, perfect weather for walking around.

“Are you ready to go?” Dad asks. You nod enthusiastically and he takes a few more puffs of his pipe before putting it out and coming inside to place it on the side table beside his recliner. He gestures for you to go outside first and, as you skip happily to the car, he closes and locks the front door.

* * *

 

It’s a busy day downtown so everyone is bustling about. It’s also quite a bit warmer since the buildings block the nice breeze, so you’re happy you wore some loose-fitting Capri pants and your favorite blue-and-white shirt with the silly blue monster on the front. The shirt is a little tight on you, mostly around the middle, which makes your baby bump just a tad more pronounced. It isn’t very obvious yet, of course, but you rub your belly a bit self-consciously anyway.

Your dad brings you to a maternity clothing store where he, being the dapper gentleman that he is, points out the best materials to you and the colors that will best fit your figure. A few ladies nearby are staring at him adoringly while their husbands have their hands shoved in their pockets and are pointedly ignoring the undergarment section.

Dad, of course, is holding up a maternity bra to your chest and is rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

“Now, you’ll want something to properly support your bosoms and something that won’t irritate your skin,” Dad says wisely, his eyes scanning the bras with the trained gaze of a clothing expert. “What is your bra size, pumpkin? You can whisper it in my ear.”

“38C,” you murmur in his ear. He nods.

“Alright. You will most likely go up a cup size, so I suggest something like this, which is adjustable and has plenty of room to accommodate,” Dad says, pulling a bra from the rack. You grimace.

“Does it come in any color besides beige?” you ask. He looks up and points out a black one, a pink one, and a white one. You pout and cross your arms. “Why are only skinny girls allowed to have cute bras? I want polka-dots and stripes and lace, too.”

“You have every right to be frustrated, sweetpea. However, I believe we will make up for these very much non-cute brassieres with some adorable maternity tops. I saw a very nice selection of them. As your father, I promise you will walk out of this store a very stylish and cute young woman!” he says, striking a pose with the bra in his hand. He looks up as an employee comes down the aisle. “Afternoon, my good man!”

The employee turns on his heel and walks away.

“I suppose I am too pretty for his liking,” your dad says. You giggle. “So, would you like this one?”

“Yes, that one’s fine.”

Dad nods and puts the beige one back, instead picking out two black ones, two white ones, and a pink one. You give each other thumbs-up before moving over to maternity pants. There, he helps you select two pairs of jeans, two pairs of Capri pants, and two pairs of shorts.

“Now it’s time for the main attraction,” Dad says, offering you his arm before leading you to the maternity tops. You smile at the huge variety. Dad pulls down every top you show interest in. Most of the selections are blue (Dad says that they really suit your eyes) or white. You get a few black tops as well for formalwear, but for the most part your selections are summery and flowery and ‘unbearably adorable’, according to your father.

 You try on each and every top and your father waits and comments honestly on each one with practiced and perfected patience. You actually think he is enjoying himself, because he keeps looking around proudly at the other men waiting around the dressing room, waiting for their wives or girlfriends to emerge.

“My daughter’s in there,” you hear him say.

“Yeah?”

“Yes. We are having a father-daughter excursion today.”

“Uh, cool?”

“Yes, I believe ‘cool’ encompasses today quite well. She is very pretty. Would you like to see a picture of her? I have a picture right here in my wallet.”

“Um… no thanks, man.”

“Suit yourself. You may see her nonetheless. She is trying on maternity clothes, you see.”

“Mhm. Yeah um, I’d like to just… get back to reading this, thanks.”

“Oh, of course.”

Long silence.

“I’m going to be a grandpa.”

You burst out laughing and cover yourself up as you poke your head out of the dressing room. Your father beams as bright as a sunray while the other men around him have edged away.

“Dad, don’t harass people! Goodness gracious. I’ll be done soon.”

Once you’re finished, you come out with a few tops that you liked and a couple you’ll pass on. Most of them, however, look great on you, just like Dad promised.

“Find some you like?” he asks. You nod.

“Yep. The blue one with the white sash is my favorite.”

“I knew you’d like that one,” Dad says proudly. “Now, would you like some dresses?”

“Yes please!”

The two of you go to the maternity dresses and again you’re faced with a very wide selection. You’re beginning to like this maternity store more and more. You and Dad pick out some ones with pretty prints, once more staying with the blue/white/black color scheme. Dad also has you try on a pure white sundress with tiered ruffles on the skirt. When you come out of the dressing room with it on, your dad bursts into tears and you have to lead him away out of embarrassment. Once he’s composed, he begs you to let him buy you that one and you comply with a laugh.

Finally the two of you finish up in the maternity store and Dad ends up dropping nearly five hundred dollars to pay for your new clothes. Dad assures you that money is meant to be spent, not hoarded, and that he’d be more than happy to drop down a few _thousand_ dollars for you. You’ve always been an above-average home regarding finances, as your father makes a very, very decent salary at his job, but it’s still a bit too much to take in!

Dad carries the bags out and stows them in the trunk of his car. By now, the sun has shifted in the sky and the breeze has returned. The cool air is definitely welcome.

Your dad also buys you a few new pairs of shoes with plenty of support (he says that your mother had particularly sore ankles when she was pregnant with you) from a shoe store the next block over. By that time, you’re getting a bit tired and your stomach is growling at you. Dad takes you to a restaurant, where the two of you sit across from each other in a booth.

“Did you enjoy your day, Jane?” Dad asks after the two of you have ordered your meals. You nod enthusiastically.

“Mhm! Thank you so, so much. I feel utterly spoiled and I can’t wait to wear my new clothes!” you say. Dad smiles.

“Anything for you, pumpkin.”

You look down at your water glass and stir it with your straw for a while, pondering.

“I know this whole situation isn’t what you expected or wanted out of me,” you say after a long time. Dad cocks his head questioningly. “And I feel terrible. You’re being so kind, and I feel like the luckiest girl in the world right now! I know that a whole stinkin’ load of women would love to be in my position! But I just feel like I don’t… deserve it.”

“I did this today because I wanted to,” Dad says. “I didn’t feel obligated as your father to do this for you. The fact of the matter is, I love you, and it’s not too often that I can go shopping for brassieres!”

You roll your eyes as Dad chuckles.

“But in all seriousness, you have shown so much growth and maturity these past few years, and especially in these past few months. I believe that you deserved today more than anyone in the world. Besides, I was planning on taking you on a shopping spree as a graduation celebration anyway. Consider this your gift.”

You smile.

“Thank you, Dad. I love you!”

“I love you too, sweetheart,” Dad says. He pats your hand. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

When your food comes, Dad politely asks the waitress to wait as he cuts the burger you ordered in half. You had ordered medium well, but it looks more medium rare.

“Excuse me, Miss, but my daughter is pregnant. Will you please take this back and tell the chefs to be a tad more careful when they cook this?”

The waitress apologizes profusely and offers the two of you dessert on the house.

“That is very kind of you. Yes, I believe that can be arranged. Thank you very much,” Dad says. The waitress smiles and bustles off with the food. Your stomach growls and you groan.

“The baby is very hungry!” you say. Dad chuckles.

“I’ll bet. Have you thought of any names for her yet?”

You blink.

“Oh. Oh! Gosh, I… I forgot about that. I haven’t put an ounce of thought into it yet!”

“Well, there’s certainly no need to rush. It’s only been five and a half months, correct? You still have plenty of time to come up with something.”

You nod and ponder for a while. Names… names. It has to be something short and sweet. Perhaps you could name her after your mother? Oh, but maybe not, since she’ll be only a quarter Korean and a Korean name might not suit her. You find yourself wishing Dirk was here. When your food arrives and it’s confirmed to be safe, you sort of pick at it as you lose your appetite. Does he hate you now? Does he think you hate him? Is your friendship really that weak to be ruined by a single fight? You’ve fought with him before, of course, but it was usually resolved within a day or two. It’s been almost three weeks since your huge fight with Dirk. You suppose he can’t hate you too much if he’s dropping off money for your father to pay the hospital bills. But still…

“Perhaps you should try giving him a call tonight,” Dad says. You look up in surprise and he just smiles knowingly. “I know that thoughtful stare of yours, Jane. If you’re up to it, perhaps you should just give him a call. Surely the two of you have cooled down to talk about it like adults.”

“I suppose you’re right. I miss him a lot,” you sigh. Dad pauses his eating.

“Are you in love with him, my dear?” he asks. You blink and look up at him. He’s looking at you solemnly, and you know he isn’t just trying to make you squeal. You blush and wring your hands in your lap.

“I… don’t know. I don’t know how I feel about him. I just know that he has been there for me this whole time, unlike everyone else. And you, of course. Roxy is ignoring me, Jake tries to come over from time to time but I think it’s just because he… I don’t think he can consciously dislike anyone! And even Dave and Rose have been cold to me…”

“I can see why your emotions can be confusing right now,” your dad says with a soothing tone. “But I’d just like to say that I think your paranoia about Rose and Dave is a little farfetched. They’re busy planning their wedding, sweetheart. They probably just haven’t had the time to properly talk to you about this yet. I promise you they don’t hate you or think any less of you.”

You nod, feeling intense relief flood over you. Of course. They’re just busy, they don’t hate you. It still doesn’t take away the uncomfortable knot resting in your stomach that heats up when you so much as think about Roxy and Jake disliking you for any reason.

“Alright,” you sigh. “That makes me feel much better.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to cherryburlesque for proofing work.

You don’t end up calling Dirk that night because you’re too nervous to speak to him just yet. You instead dive right into studying, allowing the baby to listen to some more jazz music as you diligently study your flashcards. You end up falling asleep in the middle of reading your text book, but on Sunday morning, you find yourself safely tucked into your bed with a note on your pillow about how proud your father is.

On Monday, you wear your maternity clothes for the first time. You never would’ve guessed that clothes you could wear in public could be so comfortable. Getting many compliments from classmates and even the professor has you relaxed throughout your oral exam, which is graded on the spot. You score a 92%, and Dad rewards you that night with a delicious dinner featuring a nice big helping of kimchi. Tuesday and Wednesday prove to be successful as well, with you flying through your exams and feeling as if you passed both of them.

On Wednesday afternoon, while you’re packing up your things and preparing to go home, there’s an enormous bang which has half of the classroom jumping in surprise, including you. You drop your backpack and whirl towards the door to see _Dirk bloody Strider_ striding his way into the room as if he owns the place.

What.

The professor stands as Dirk makes his way to the front of the classroom.

“Sir, I’m afraid you’re going to have to leave immediately!” he says, but Dirk ignores him and turns sharply on his heel to face the whole class. He’s in his shades. And a tux.

And has a baby doll strapped to his chest with a baby carrier.

Your face burns and you move to leave, but Dirk whips out one of those plastic toy microphones. You whimper.

“Please don’t,” you whine. He takes a deep breath and starts beatboxing into the thing, seemingly going on forever as his mouth moves expertly and his body sways to the rhythm. You slap your hands over your face.

_“Yo, Jane Crocks, you’d be off your rocks, uh,_

_To ignore as I implore, uh,_

_You to listen to my rhymin’ an’ my pleadin’ an’ my pinin’,_

_My rhythm be busy, uh, my rhythm be poppin’,_

_Jaws droppin’, beat rockin’,_

_As I deliver the good ol’ fashion rap from a sap who gave you crap,_

_Who hurt you and deserted you and made you cry, uh,_

_Cry, cry, I even knew why, an’ all this time I gave you shit,_

_I oughtta be hit, uh,_

_For the hearts I’ve slaughtered, I don’t deserve a daughter, uh,_

_All I know is how to blow, uh,_

_A microphone sky high an’ make those fists rise, uh, everybody rise-”_

You don’t know what face you’re pulling, but you’re pretty sure it conveys ‘What the actual fuck?’ as everyone around you starts to get to their feet and snap their fingers to the rhythm of Dirk’s ridiculous rap. You back away from them, but all of a sudden you’re being lifted onto their shoulders and paraded down the aisle towards the front of the classroom. Even the professor is dancing.

_“Before you say this is silly let me explain you a thing,_

_It seems the heat of summer is in full swing, Barbara._

_Yes, the temperature has been on a steady incline since April, and we believe that it’s going to be a hot, hot summer here in Washington!_

_So grab your beach towels because you’re going to want to cool dow-”_

You awaken with a start as your alarm clock blares at you with the weather forecast. Groaning, you shut it off and roll over onto your back. It’s positively roasting in your room, even though the air conditioning is on and your fan is pointed at you. If it’s going to be this hot all summer, you want to move to the North Pole.

Standing up from bed, you peel off your sweaty pajamas and dry your body with a towel. Your first order of business is to take a shower, so you retire to your bathroom and hop in to take a nice cold one. Once that’s over with, you dry off and get dressed before heading downstairs with a towel on your head.

Your father looks up from the stove, where he’s busy flipping blueberry pancakes. He smiles at you.

“Well, good morning, princess!” he says. You hum in response and lean in to kiss his cheek. “How does it feel to be officially done with your exams?”

“Uggggh,” you groan. “I had such a weird dream this morning. I was back taking my Wednesday exam and Dirk came in and started rapping to me. And it turns out the whole class was in on it and it was pretty much the worst dream ever. It was so vivid because I wouldn’t put it past him to pull a ridiculous stunt like that!”

Dad laughs as he serves you some pancakes with syrup. You pick some of the blueberries out and eat those first. They’re your favorite.

“Perhaps it’s your subconscious saying that it’s time to give him a call?” Dad asks. He sits down adjacent to you with a cup of coffee and opens up his newspaper. He’s chewing gum so he can keep his mouth busy instead of smoking at the table like he usually does. Again you’re overwhelmed with how much your father cares about you.

“I hope he’ll be willing to talk after you popped him right in the kisser, Dad!” you say. You’re only joking but your father gives you a look.

“If Mister Strider is even half of the genius he is said to be, then he will understand I was only doing what was right to protect my daughter,” Dad huffs. “And besides, I have no right to forbid him from seeing you if this whole fiasco was a bump that can be overcome. I believe Mister Strider has good intentions even though he sometimes doesn’t understand how to properly express them.”

“True,” you sigh. “Alright, I’ll give him a call. I just… I don’t know what to say to him!”

As the words come out of your mouth there is heavy pounding at the door that makes you jump. Your father lowers his newspaper and glances at you while you stare at him. The knocking sounds again, more urgent this time.

“I wonder who it is,” you say, knowing full well that it’s Dirk. You sigh and get to your feet before going to the front door and pulling it open. You are shocked to see that it is certainly not Dirk, but in fact it’s Roxy and Jake. That is, Roxy and Jake with a huge wagon full of potted flowers behind them. You nearly fall over in confusion. “Wh-”

“ _Jaaaaaaane!_ ” Roxy wails. She throws her head back and bawls. “I’m soooo _sorreeeeeeeeeeeee!_ ”

As she cries at your doorstep, you look at Jake helplessly and he scratches his head. You realize he looks a little teary-eyed too. Roxy stumbles forward and throws herself at you, hugging you tightly. She cries messily onto your shoulder while you awkwardly pat her back.

“What’s this all about?” you ask once Roxy has finally settled down. She’s still hiccupping.

“I’m a frickin’ terrible friend, like, I totally just ditched you when you needed me the most, and I just feel _horrible!_ ” she weeps.

“What brought all of this about?” you ask.

“Well, Dirk came and rounded us up and… I suppose you could say he really gave us an earful,” Jake says. He wrings his hands. “Kinda called us out! He told us we were being big huge wankers and that if we didn’t apologize he was gonna tie us down and put smuppets in our butts.”

“Dirk…? He talked to you about that?” you whisper. Jake nods and your heart skips about three beats before swelling painfully in your chest.

“He said he had a big vibrating pink one with my name on it,” Roxy blubbers. “Oh Jane, please forgive me, I don’t want a smuppet in my butt!”

She’s downright begging now, clinging to you desperately and hanging off of your shirt as she sobs. You can’t help but laugh.

“Oh for goodness sake. You’re not going to get smuppets up your butts. If anything, I’m just… I’m so happy that we can be friends again,” you say. Roxy looks up at you and straightens, holding your shoulders. She sniffles and wipes her tears.

“We never _weren’t_ friends, it’s just… I didn’t know how to react. I couldn’t tell if I was angry or sad or just freaked out… but I never, ever stopped being your friend. But I gotta say that I hardly deserve it now since I did this to you. Oh Janey… I’m so, so sorry.”

“I’m just glad you’re here,” you say, happily bringing Roxy into your arms and hugging her. Jake comes forward and wraps the both of you up in his hairy arms, making both of you giggle. When the three of you finally pull away, you’re all still teary-eyed.

“We brought you a wagon of flowers!” Jake blurts. He gestures behind himself.

“I see that!” you giggle. “But what am I supposed to do with all of them?”

“Well, we thought we could plant them in your flowerbeds for you to spruce things up for the spring. We have gloves and trowels and all of that mumbo-jumbo in my Jeep!” Jake says. He puts his hands on his hips proudly and you just shake your head before coming forward to kiss his cheek. He blushes.

“Thank you so much. My dad will love the flowers too, I bet.”

The three of you work together in the front lawn, cleaning out the flower beds and stirring up the old leaves from the last fall for a makeshift fertilizer. Once the dirt is turned over and the beds are empty, you all plant the flowers, which range from daffodils to roses to lilies. Jake even plants a cherry tomato plant in your garden, even when you tell him that it’s probably too early to be planting any produce.

“So you seriously want to keep the baby?” Jake asks while the three of you take a break from working out in the garden. You nod as you serve Jake and Roxy some iced tea.

“Yes! I feel as if I have bonded with her too much for me to simply give her up to another couple. I mean, what if they aren’t the absolute best for her? I certainly can’t have that plaguing my mind,” you say. Jake nods.

“I suppose you have a point there, Jane!” he says. “What do you think, Roxy?”

“I’m not sure,” Roxy says slowly. “But Janey, if anyone in our group knows what to do, it’s you. You’re, like, totally a natural born mom. Like. Legit family van drivin’, 50s style, complete and utter soccer mom.”

“You think so?” you ask. You feel quite flattered by that!

“Well, duh. That life isn’t for me, though. Like I’ve actually been thinking about getting my tubes tied for quite some time. I want to travel the world and see sweet things and live life on the edge,” Roxy boasts. Jake grins.

“That sounds like a rip snortin’, rootin’ tootin’, jolly blast of a time, Rox. Can you imagine zip-lining through the jungles of South America, traversing the great Amazon river, discovering wildlife that man can only _dream_ of?” Jake asks. His eyes sparkle with excitement. Roxy snorts.

“Pfft, no way. I’m thinking less hiking, more eating cuisine from around the world and drinking crazy exotic alcohol. And of course scoring some sweet foreign ass,” Roxy says. “But ziplining sounds totally rad, or like… bungee jumping and hacking into government databases and stuff like that. That would be frickin’ sweet!”

Jake whoops and reaches out to slap Roxy and high-five.

“So the domestic life isn’t for you?” you ask. Roxy shakes her head.

“Nah, but there isn’t anything wrong with you being into it!”

“I find it to be an adventure on its own! Perhaps not as thrill-inducing as your ziplining and your swooshing around like Spiderman, but still! There is something to be said about showing a little pair of eyes all there is to see in the world and loving something much bigger than yourself,” you say. Jake nods wisely.

“An adventure comparable to ziplining, indeed! I’d imagine trying to change a diaper is similar to wrangling a grizzly deep in the Alaskan wilderness!” Jake says. He pantomimes it and makes both you and Roxy laugh. “And don’t get me started on birthing. I myself have helped deliver a few babies around the world and I can only imagine what you magnificent ladies go through!”

He bows to you quite dramatically.

“You win, Miss Crocker, I have been nearly torn in two by gators, mauled half to death by a polar bear, and have battled the world’s largest species of anaconda, but all of those are scrapes on the knees compared to the miracle of childbirth. I bow humbly to your superior feminine strength!”

“Jake English, you are going to make a chick sooo frickin’ happy one day. Or a dude, or both. Whatever,” Roxy says, reaching across the table to punch Jake’s shoulder. “Like dang. Dang.”

“I didn’t think I was doing anything special. Just paying respect where it’s due,” Jake says. He seems legitimately confused, so you top off his iced tea and make sure he drinks up. He sighs happily once he drains his glass and puts it down. “Mighty good iced tea, my good lady. I feel fresh as a cucumber and strong as an ox!”

“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” you say. You stow the iced tea in the fridge and turn around again to see Jake fidgeting. “What is it?”

“He’s been dying to touch it,” Roxy says. Jake turns beet red and scratches his neck. “Gosh, men are so weird with their fascination of pregnant chicks. It’s a baby growing inside of someone, it’s not that weird. Okay, that’s actually pretty weird.”

“It’s not weird, it’s rather intriguing!” Jake exclaims. You just laugh and shake your head.

“Oh for goodness sakes. Would you like to feel, Jake?” you ask. Jake bobs his head up and down enthusiastically, so you come forward as he turns in his seat.

He’s entranced within seconds of placing his hands on you. He doesn’t seem to realize his own strength, so you gently remind him to not put so much pressure on your body with his fingers. Apologizing, his movements become much gentler and expectable.

Something crosses his gaze and one hand slips around to rest on the small of your back as his opposite hand splays across your belly and rubs in a way that has you gasping and flushing bright red. Oh my. The way he’s cupping your lower back while looking so intently upon the small swell of your belly makes your body heat up slightly, so you clear your throat and nimbly dance away from him. He almost looks like he’s going to follow, but he remains seated in his chair. You know Roxy saw it too by the way her eyebrows have shot up past her swirled bangs.

“Whoa. Manhandle much?” Roxy snorts. Jake blinks, blushes, and scratches his head.

“I’m sorry, Jane! I suppose it’s… I don’t know, there’s just something… about… you know?”

“Maybe it’s Jane’s super sexy hormones?” Roxy asks.

“What on earth are you two dingleberries talking about?” you huff. You put your hands on your hips. Roxy gives you a look.

“Oh please, don’t act like you don’t know! Jane. You’re like… literally glowing. Like. Okay, not like glow in the dark, but… Jake, help me out here. Isn’t she glowing?” Roxy asks. Jake nods eagerly.

“Gadzooks, you’re right! There’s something… alluring about it, somehow. Like I want to sweep you up in my arms and… and…”

“Carry her off to your man cave?” Roxy offers. Jake sputters.

“N-No, not… not something like that… well… maybe.”

“He thinks your baby bump is _sexyyyy!_ ” Roxy screams suddenly, slamming her palms on the table before throwing her head back and laughing like a maniac. “Omigosh I have to tell Jane. Oh yeah you’re right here. God. Just. He’s totes got the hots for your sexy bump!”

“It’s not like that!” Jake whines. He fidgets and you notice he’s pulling his cardigan pointedly over the front of his cargo shorts. “I guess my manly instincts are kicking in and… I just find Jane to be… to be very attractive, that’s all. With the bump. Well without the bump, too, she’s a sight for sore eyes! But. The… um…”

You can’t believe what you’re hearing. Here’s Jake, his cheeks dark red and his adam’s apple bobbing as he gulps. Actually turned on by your increasingly large belly?

Now isn’t that interesting.

“Maybe it’s the hormones? It makes sense,” Roxy muses. “Like, think about it. Some guys release pheromones like crazy, right? And even if he’s ugly as sin he draws women in? So like, maybe you’re releasing a ton of _hormones_ and it’s giving you a really sexy aura. Of course you were already super frickin’ cute, but Jane, you’re like… _emitting_ stuff now. Like a cock magnet!”

“I’m not sure if I find that to be flattering or slightly creepy!” you say honestly.

“Look at it any way that you want, but just know that you are radiant, Janey,” Roxy says. “Frickin’. _Radiant_. Gurl. Dead serious! You’ve always been gorgeous but now you’re _drop dead_ gorgeous.”

“That’s an understatement,” Jake says almost dreamily, trying to rest his elbow on the table and only managing to slip off and bang his elbow on his knee. You slap your hands over your eyes and try to hide.

“Nooo!” you whine. You blush all the way to the tips of your ears and turn away. You hear laughter before two sets of hands turn you around for a big hug. You snuggle against them despite your embarrassment. You can deal with a bit of over-flattery, you suppose. After all, now you have your friends back and everything feels whole again.

That is, except one last little void left in your heart that only one individual can fill.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy father's day! Someone suggested that I do a two-chapter special today since it's ~*~*~*father's day~*~*~*~ and obviously all know why that's special 8D 
> 
> Special thanks to cherryburlesque for proofing work.

“So will you two be coming to my graduation?” you ask as you sit back on your heels and admire your handiwork. The bluebells you just planted look absolutely gorgeous beside the orange lilies.  Jake and Roxy are just coming back from behind the house, where they had dumped the pulled weeds and underbrush into the small strip of forest behind your fence that separates you from your backdoor neighbors.

“Well _duh_ ,” Roxy says. “It’s like, as important as high school graduation.”

“Indeed,” Jake agrees. “I mean, a four year commitment is definitely worth a celebration! And we can go out and have a drink to have a party, too, what say you, Jane?”

“Oh my god Jake you can’t just ask Jane if she wants to get drunk. She’s pregnant!”

Jake blinks.

“Oh yeah.”

“That’s quite alright, thank you,” you chortle. “I don’t mind.”

“Well of course we’d want to celebrate in a way that you can join in on, too! Perhaps an outing of sorts?” Jake asks. He scratches the stubble on his chin in thought. “But to where…”

“Well, we’ll just have to see how hot it’s going to be,” you say. You look up at the cloudy sky, thankful that the sun hasn’t been beating down on you today. “If it’s too warm, I’d like to stay inside as much as possible.”

“Oh yeah. You’re like an ice cream cone now,” Roxy giggles. While you laugh, Roxy runs over and tackles you into the ground before licking a long stripe up your cheek. You squeal and struggle in her grasp. “ _Mmmm_ , Janey flavored!”

You cry out for Jake to help you but he just comes over and lies down on your other side so he can snuggle up against you like a loyal dog. Roxy calms down soon as well, and before long the three of you are just lying in the grass and looking up at the grey clouds in the sky. Jake rests his head on your shoulder and his hand travels down to gently settle on your belly.

“Why isn’t Dirk around?” he asks after a while. You frown.

“We had a bit of a fight. Well… let me reword that. We had a huge, terrible fight.”

Roxy lifts her head.

“Oh no! What happened?”

“I want to keep the baby and he doesn’t. And you know, he brought up a lot of valid points during the fight, but never once did I feel any doubt.”

“That might be because you’re a pretty stubborn chick, girlie,” Roxy teases. You roll your eyes.

“Yes yes, I’m quite aware, my father says I’m just like my mom and he’s so proud, yeah. But I’m stubborn about this because I _know_ I can do it! I know I can raise her right!”

“And it’s not like you’re not gonna have help, I mean… me and Jake are always gonna be here, and we could definitely babysit while you’re working or doing whatever it is that you Janeys do,” Roxy assures. You smile at her.

“Really?”

“Duh! I can paint her fingernails and I can be her Auntie Roxy and we’re going to gossip about boys and bitchy coworkers while I change her diaper,” Roxy says. You laugh while Jake asks how on earth Roxy is going to talk to an infant while she’s still in diapers. “That’s the joke, Jake. Oh my gosh.”

You snort and look up at the sky for a while longer as a frown occupies your lips.

“Regarding Dirk, I… I just don’t know. I don’t know what to tell him and how to approach him about the topic.”

“Well it’s not like the two of you are together,” Roxy says. “He doesn’t really have a choice in whether or not you can keep the baby.”

You look down.

“Unless… oh my god, do you love him?”

“I don’t know!” you exclaim, distressed. You cover your eyes and just shake your head. “I just don’t know. All I know is that he definitely won’t feel the same way. Because… because at the end of the day, I’m like a sister to him.”

“Oh Jane…” Roxy murmurs. Confusion crosses Jake’s expression as if the two of you have shared an inside joke.

“You can’t honestly believe that, right?” he asks. “I mean golly! When has that ever stopped two people from falling in love?”

“Oh my god, Jake,” Roxy groans.

“Jake. The whole reason you rejected me is because I’m like a sister to you,” you remind him gently. It doesn’t sting to say it as much as you thought it would. Jake blinks.

“Oh, right! Part of the reason I said that is because I just can’t be romantically attracted to you because I’m afraid of ruining our friendship! What if something goes wrong and we break up? That scares me because I love you, Jane, I don’t want to lose you as my best friend,” Jake says. He pouts his lip and your heart melts just a little. You ruffle his hair.

“You’re such a silly boy,” you sigh. “Nonetheless, I think Dirk feels the same way you do, Jake. You heard it yourself. He wants things to stay the same. To stay predictable and simple.”

“Well a lot of things about you being pregnant with his daughter isn’t very predictable _or_ simple,” Roxy points out. You grimace.

“I suppose you’re right. But what makes you think that Strider of all people would have even a tiny smidgen of romantic attraction for me? I feel as if I am not exactly his cup of tea,” you say. Jake shakes his head vigorously.

“No, no, I think Strider’s more black and white than you make him out to be. Like any man he has his own set of things that… get him going, so to say,” Jake says suggestively. You sit up immediately and gape down at him.

“Dirk Strider has turn-ons?”

“Amazing,” Roxy says. “Well I guess Jake would know, right? I mean he’s the only one of us who ever boned the dude.”

“Roxy!” you exclaim. You blush. “Don’t say things like that, Dirk and Jake certainly didn’t… did you?”

Jake is silent and both you and Roxy scream. Now both of you are sitting up and Jake is flailing as you both grab onto him and shake.

“I can’t believe it!” you say, trying to keep the excitement from your voice. Jake makes a face.

“Well, of course we… dabbled a bit! It was to experiment, really, but then things felt better than we anticipated and… that’s all there is to say on the matter!”

“Hell no it ain’t!” Roxy says. She grabs Jake’s arm and twists it, forcing him to go inside and sit down on the couch. You and Roxy sit on either side of him, leaning in close.

“You ladies are truly interested in this?” he asks.

“Of course.”

“Duh!”

“I-I see… alright then. Oh, bugger, I don’t know what to say!”

“Tell us what it was like,” Roxy says. “Like, what did you do? Do you remember?”

“Of course I do!” Jake says. “We were both virgins at the time and I must say, Strider did put on quite a show!”

“What do you mean?” you ask. Jake chuckles a bit and rubs his neck as his ears burn a bit.

“Well let’s just say that Dirk has this… submissive side to him that he reveals under very rare circumstance. Something that perhaps no one will see again! He shivered so much when we kissed I thought he was having some sort of epileptic seizure, but the bloke was downright quivering with excitement!”

Roxy grins maliciously.

“I am soooo blackmailing him with this.”

“You most certainly are not!”

“Fine, fine, I won’t. Keep going!”

Roxy winks at you while Jake looks up at the ceiling and ruffles his hair.

“Well, uh… I thought I’d try something a little… edgy… and told him to get on his knees and well… you know. Do the… the sucky thing,” Jake stammers. “And he was bad at it, I must say! His gag reflexes weren’t so good. But it was like I flipped a switch, because he was… well, I specifically remember him letting out these loud moans and I swear he was whimpering, if you can believe it! And then we were on the bed and he got on his hands and knees and I just… ahem, right.”

Jake shifts a bit, pulling his shirt down. You’re feeling a little hot too. Dirk Strider of all people? Letting his hair down? You imagine him with his chest pressed flush against the sheets, arse raised, that creamy white back arching beautifully into a strong hold and-

“I have the biggest boner right now,” Roxy says. It snaps you out of your fantasies and you just laugh.

“Oh, I’m not finished,” Jake says. Both you and Roxy raise your eyebrows. “The man is pure evil, I tell you. He can switch instantly between both extremes; it all depends on how you go about seducing the beast. Sometimes he’s powerful and dominant, and other times he’s presenting his underbelly to you like a submissive member of the pack. I had anxiety from it, to be honest! I never knew if I was going to ride or be ridden, if you know what I mean.”

“So Dirk’s a beast under a thick layer of cute anime boy?” Roxy asks. Jake nods.

“Precisely! But at the same time he is a cute anime boy under a thick layer of beast. And then he has a whole bunch of other things that makes him tick, like toys and leashes, for some reason. He likes collars.”

“That’s quite enough, I think!” you blurt suddenly. You’re blushing so hard that you can feel the heat on your chest. “This is getting a tad personal, don’t you think?”

“I guess,” Jake says while Roxy gives you a knowing grin.

“Aww, is Janey getting her knickers in a bunch?” she asks. “You know, I’m surprised you and Dirk haven’t made up yet. It’s only a matter of time…”

“A matter of time until what?” you humor her because of the look she’s giving you. You’re also curious. But you know the moment the words come out of your mouth you’ve made a mistake.

“Until you go into heat,” Roxy purrs. “And you get a liiiiittle itch where the sun don’t shine, and there is only one juicy salami in the whole world who can tame _that_ cream cheese bagel.”

“I haven’t had bagels with cream cheese and salami in a long while,” Jake pipes in. Roxy ignores him while you turn beet red. Crossing your arms, you upturn your nose and look away.

“That is absolutely ludicrous. I haven’t felt an inkling of anything like… _that_ in a long time. I am an adult! I have no time for tomfoolery such as that.”

“You poor innocent baby.”

* * *

 

Graduation day rolls around and just so happens to be on the hottest, most brutal day of your life. Okay, perhaps you’re exaggerating because it’s only about seventy-eight degrees Fahrenheit. But still, the air is stagnant and thick from last night’s rain and the sun beats down upon you mercilessly, mocking you as you roast inside of your graduation robes. You’re fanning yourself almost desperately with your pamphlet as names are called out. They’ve just started so they’re at the very beginning of the alphabet, promising you a long, grueling wait after you’ve already gotten your degree.

When your row of seats stands to progress to the stage, you glance over to see Roxy and Jake sitting beside Dad. There’s no sign of Dirk. You try not to let it bother you.

It becomes apparent that you’re becoming dangerously overheated as you sway back and forth in front of the stage, cheeks flushed and hair plastered to your forehead under your cap. You nearly stumble and fall on your way up to the stage, but you keep easing your way forward and try not to think of the queasiness settling in your belly.

When your name is called, you come forward and quietly accept your degree. You don’t smile as much as you’d like for the camera, but you really can’t be half-arsed to care right now. You’re hot, you’re sweaty, and unbelievably grumpy about it.

You’re too busy worrying about that to notice the strange whistling sound. The graduation ceremony goes silent and, as you stand there with your hand clasped in the speaker’s grasp in a long handshake, the entire audience looks up just in time to see an orange and blue firework explode in the sky. It’s the middle of the day so it isn’t too fantastic, but the sound is enough to wake up the audience and make everyone clap.

You hear Roxy whoop and holler out your name as you progress along the stage, blushing and trying to hide your smile as Jake follows suit and cheers. Some of your other friends also begin to cheer, and you realize with a pleasant jolt that you’re well-loved by this community. No, you never made the Dean’s List and no, you’ve never been one to go to a lot of parties. But here you are with people still hollering for you as you get off the stage and make your way back to your seat. You’re beaming happily now.

The rest of the ceremony drags by slowly, but you don’t really notice. You’re too busy thinking about whoever set off the firework. Had it been Dirk? Is he actually here right now, watching from the shadows? Is he proud of you?

The thought makes your heart throb against your ribcage.

When the ceremony finally ends, you leave as soon as possible and begin stripping off your graduation garments, making Dad laugh.

“Jane, my dear, I’m not sure if you want to be taking your clothes off like this so soon,” he says in a playfully scolding tone.

“I don’t care, I’m roasting and this is black material!” you whine. You toss the sweaty garments at Jake, who grimaces as he watches the armpit drip. You sigh with utter relief, now dressed only in your white sundress with the spaghetti straps and the tiered ruffles. “Oh my goodness that is just… heavenly. Roxy, may I have my fix-up kit, please?”

“Sure thing, girlfriend,” Roxy says. She hands you a stick of deodorant (you don’t even care if people watch while you generously apply it), a bottle of perfume, eyeliner, mascara, and a hair brush. Roxy grins proudly. “I’ve taught you well, young Padawan, in the arts of looking fabulous.”

“Oh brother. This is nothing, I’d just like to look presentable when we go out for dinner,” you say, giving a dismissive wave of your hand. Once you look clean and considerably less sweaty (Roxy has to help you with your deflated hair), you pack your kit away and finally accept the hug your father has been itching to give you.

“I’m so proud of everything you’ve done,” he says. His voice is gravelly and you wonder if he had been weeping. You pat his back, then pull away to be hugged by Jake and Roxy, respectively.

“Thanks everyone! I’m just relieved to be done with all this malarkey. Now I can get on with plans for the future! I can see it now, ‘Jane’s Bakery’, the one-stop destination for everyone’s pastry and bread needs!” you say excitedly. You gesture widely as you do so, and Roxy and Jake and Dad only smile. After a moment, you sense something mischievous and raise an eyebrow. “I say, what has gotten into you lot? What has you so smiley?”

“Behind you,” Jake says. You whirl around to see Dirk approaching slowly, dressed in black slacks and a white button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He’s carrying a huge bouquet of blue roses. He looks so dapper and gorgeous and you… well, suddenly you feel sweaty and gross again so you let out an ‘eep’ and hide yourself in your father’s chest. Dad just laughs at you and carefully peels you off of him so you can turn around and face the stupid sexy Strider approaching you.

“Crocker,” he says softly once he has come to a stop in front of you. He has a gentle smile on his face. You nervously stroke a lock of hair behind your ear and look hopelessly over your shoulder for help. The others have already left the two of you to be alone.

“Strider. I um… I didn’t expect you to be here,” you say. You cross your arms and feign annoyance to cover up your obvious nervousness. “I do hope you have come to _apologize!_ ”

“That’s what this big bouquet is for,” Dirk points out. Duh. You flush and shuffle a bit on your silver gladiator sandals, wishing suddenly that you hadn’t worn them because they seem kinda silly and childish. You don’t know how. They just do. Everything about you seems childish all of a sudden, from your candy red lipstick to your baby blue painted finger and toenails.

“W-Well… well, then I hope you have come to apologize for your attire!” you sputter. Dirk smirks knowingly while you put your hands on your hips. “I thought you Striders were all about fashion and impressions, and you’re wearing white, it’s too much white for the both of us, we shouldn’t be seen together. My friend is a fashion major and she would be completely disgusted right now. Really, you should just run away!”

“Not anymore,” he says smoothly. It pierces your heart flawlessly and it feels like you have to manually send power to your legs to keep them steady. Dirk takes one of your hands in his, his large palm a stark contrast to your little one. He runs his thumb over the back of it before bringing your knuckles to his lips to kiss it. Embarrassed, you titter nervously and cover your eyes with your free hand.

“Dirk, people are looking…” you trail off.

“I don’t give a fuck. Being a celebrity means people are gonna look, you better get used to it if I’m going to be by your side,” Dirk says. He squeezes your hand and you stare at him while you process what he just said.

“Pardon?” you ask dumbly.

“Jane, I’m not going to stand here and pretend that I’m not afraid. Once upon a time I would hide behind a mask of cool, ironic bullshit to hide the fact that I was scared shitless, but this is so much bigger than keeping face and being a stone cold douche,” Dirk begins. He takes a breath and looks away. You can see his eyes faintly through his shades. There’s doubt in his gaze. “I have been selfish and I realize that now. I am afraid of being inadequate. I am afraid of being yet another Strider who walks out on his responsibilities to pursue his own selfish goals. I am afraid of becoming the type of father that a child posts about on his or her blog saying how much they hate their own dad. And trust me, that happens. I’ve read Dave’s blog. If you go through years of stupid bullshit you’ll dig up dark times. That scares me. I’m cold and I see the world in numbers. And calculations. Everything that happens is nothing but a change in the code of the system, and I am afraid of seeing my daughter as a fucking statistic.”

“Oh Dirk… I-”

He silences you by taking your face in his hand, his fingertips touching your curly hair and his thumb pressing against your lips.

“And that’s me, while you see things in full clarity; you see opportunity where I see digits and probability; and to you, the world is tangible and alive and full of gold while I am immersed in a world of obsidian.”

“Have you been rehearsing this?” you manage to ask past his thumb.

“Yes. A thousand times. Because I wanted this to be perfect, for everything to go my way, to make the probability of you accepting my apology skyrocket. But what I am beginning to understand is that you, Jane Crocker, will never be a statistic to me, or a victim of the odds and probability, because you are simply not part of the code. So I ask you this on the spot, no prior rehearsal or scripted lines, will you allow me to make up for my selfishness and stay through to the end of this crazy-ass rainstorm?”

“As a father, you mean?” you ask softly. Dirk nods once.

“I would like to try, but only if you teach me.”

“Of course I will teach you,” you say. “And the first lesson is to stop hiding.”

You reach up and slip his shades off of his face, revealing liquid amber and a vulnerable gaze that has you wishing you could bring him into your arms right this instant. But you resist, your feet firmly anchored to the ground.

“The first step to seeing the world as alive is to stop blocking it!” you scold, wagging your finger. You fold up his shades and stow it away in the breast pocket of his shirt. “Look at the sky and the grass, all of the people here who now have the means to get a job and start their lives! Have you even friggin’ stopped to smell the roses you brought me? Did you smell the sulfur when you let off that firework?”

Dirk’s smile gets progressively bigger as you point things out to him as if he has been blind this whole time. He just laughs, telling you that he didn’t mean that he literally only sees floating numbers like in _The Matrix_.

“Of all the things you could’ve forgotten,” Dirk finally says when you finish. You turn to him in confusion just as his hand slips around to the small of your back, pulling you forward and arching your body as his opposite hand splays over your belly. “You didn’t mention yourself. You’re beginning to show. And may I just say that, right now, Miss Crocker, you look utterly radiant.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *
> 
> Special thanks to cherryburlesque for proofing work.

“There we go. All advertisements are hereby taken down.”

You look up from your Styrofoam box of fried rice to see Dirk tapping away at his laptop as he lounges on your bed with his shoes kicked off and his ankles crossed. There’s something very domestic and pleasantly strange about seeing Dirk Strider in your bed without his shades on. It makes your heart flutter, so you focus on finishing your rice. Originally the plan had been to go out for dinner, but when it had suddenly begun to rain (you will never understand Washington weather), everyone decided Chinese takeout sounded much better. Besides, you had cravings and this is most certainly hitting the spot.

“So no more ads for a beautiful baby girl?” you ask. Dirk’s lips quirk and he smirks a little.

“Nope. From this day onward, the demon spawn is all on us. You’re sure you want to go through with this?”

“I was sure when I was faced with the possibility of doing it alone. Now I’m doubly as sure with you here to help me,” you say cheerfully. You lick a piece of rice from the corner of your lips, then set aside the empty takeout box.

“You’re fucking adorable. Come here.”

“One moment, I’d like to get my pajamas on,” you say. You get up from the bed and you feel Dirk’s gaze on you as you pull out the pair of booty shorts with the word ‘BABE’ written in glittery letters on the butt. You grimace and look over your shoulder at Dirk, who just looks amused.

“Damn, Crocker, you gonna try to seduce me tonight?” he asks. You roll your eyes. “When you invited me to sleep over, I didn’t think you’d try something like this until you at least got a few drinks in me.”

“It’s either this or normal shorts, but I get so hot at night…” you trail off. Dirk considers this.

“Just panties, then. I might find you too saucy to resist if you wear those shorts,” Dirk teases. You laugh and put the shorts away.

“Oh, hush up, you. If you insist, I’ll just wear these,” you say. You pull out your blue polka-dot bikini panties (you are quite a fan of this cut and find it to be very cute) and hang them on the handle of your dresser drawer as you reach up under your sun dress and pull off your current pair. Tossing it in the hamper, you quickly pull on the new pair and begin pulling your sundress up and over your head. You look over your shoulder to see Dirk watching you. You turn away bashfully. Should you have gone into the bathroom to change? No, you’re just friends, so there’s nothing awkward about this at all. Nope, not one drop of awkwardness.

The sundress goes in the hamper and you quickly pull on a tank top that hugs your baby bump and makes it all the more prominent. Removing your bra without disturbing your tank top requires scarcely any skill, but Dirk still whistles when you toss it into the hamper along with your other things. You just give him a look and he winks. You don’t dilly-dally on your way to the bed, determined to not let Dirk feast his eyes on the goods for too long. Once you’re safely snuggled under the sheets, you sidle up close to Dirk and cuddle up against him as he surfs through a couple websites about puppets and some other technological mumbo-jumbo you don’t find any particular interest in.

Just as you’re beginning to doze, there’s a soft knock on the door.

“Is it safe for me to come in?” Dad’s voice calls. You answer him tiredly and he comes in with a glass of water and your supplement pills. “You forgot to take these, pumpkin, so I brought them up for you.”

“Thanks, Dad,” you yawn, sitting up and tiredly taking the water and pills from your father. As you pop them in your mouth one by one and gulp them down with a mouthful of water, Dad turns to Dirk.

“Are you comfortable, Mister Strider? Is there anything I can get you? Perhaps tea? Milk?” he asks. Dirk shakes his head.

“Nah, but thanks Mister C.”

Dad squints.

“And I trust I will not need to teach you another lesson about manhandling my daughter?”

“Daaaad,” you groan. Dirk grins.

“Trust me, the lesson you taught me was one I will never forget, I assure you,” Dirk says. He taps his jaw and Dad beams.

“Now that’s what I like to hear. You two sleep well and don’t worry about rising early tomorrow. I’ll be making omelets to order whenever you’d like!” Dad says. With that, he bids you both goodnight once more before exiting the room.

“Such a dingleberry,” you murmur against Dirk’s chest. He chuckles lowly and slips an arm around your shoulders. Things are peaceful before your door slowly squeaks open again.

“I left a condom out in the hall just in case.”

“ _Dad!_ ”

* * *

 

It’s two in the morning and you can’t sleep. The two of you are back to back in order to keep you as cool as possible, but temperature isn’t the problem. You rub your feet together and bury your face in your pillow as you pant ever so slightly. Why oh why does this have to happen right now?

Your hand cautiously sneaks down to your panties and you prod curiously at yourself with your fingers. You’ve completely soaked through your panties and, as you pull your fingers back, strings of crystal clear arousal sparkle in the dim light of Dirk’s iPhone, which is on the iPod dock and playing soft music. Huffing and whining under your breath, you turn onto your back and try to keep your hands innocently at your sides. That soon proves to be too much effort and you crumble under the pressure of the constant, burning ache between your legs.

Glancing at Dirk, who is still turned away from you and snoring softly, you swallow and slip your hand into your panties. You touch that dripping wet heat, amazed at just how aroused you truly are (for no apparent reason, either), and begin to rub yourself in slow, steady circles. You make sure to stay as calm and quiet as possible, nibbling on your opposite index finger as the first teases at your hole and presses in to the first knuckle. Your eyelids flutter and your hand travels down to cup your breast, pinching a nipple through your shirt. It doesn’t do much for you, but when you imagine it as Dirk, it feels a hundred times better.

You must’ve been louder than you thought, because you don’t notice Dirk’s snoring fading and going silent until you feel him tense up beside you. You pause your ministrations and hold your breath before he shifts gently beside you. At that moment, you stop caring and let out the tiniest, breathiest moan you can manage. Dirk hums and rolls onto his opposite side, now facing you and gazing at you expressionlessly. You look at him for a long time before shutting your eyes and continuing, much too far gone to let this embarrass you now.

His hand lies flat on your belly, rubbing slowly up and down and further turning you on. You have two fingers inside of you now, pistoning as much as your lowered legs and protruding belly can allow. You’re whining, low and hot, and you let out a sharp gasp as Dirk’s hand trails up farther and cups you in his hand, teasing a nipple through your tank top with his index and middle finger.

“Dirk,” you breathe. He silently kisses your shoulder and shifts so he has better support as he just continues to rub and tease. You can’t cum and it’s frustrating. Every time you get close, you move your arm to go faster, but your baby bump gets in the way and leaves you sweaty and breathless. You moan at Dirk hopelessly.

“Mmm,” Dirk hums softly, coaxing you to sit up a little so he can slip your shirt up and over your head. You notice he’s only in his boxers, so you start letting your hands roam up and down his chest before he eases you back down onto the bed and hovers over you. He leans in, lips just barely brushing your ear and making you shiver. “What do you want me to do to you?”

His voice is low and sultry and you nearly turn into a puddle right there.

“I don’t know,” you breathe back stupidly. It’s true, though. You simply don’t know what he could possibly do to put out the fire burning between your- _oh._

He licks his way down your body, pausing extra long at your swollen belly, then travels lower and lower. He doesn’t bother teasing for too long, and instead gently pulls your fingers out of yourself and licks them clean before moving the obstructing cloth aside and replacing your fingers with his tongue.

You’re ridiculously embarrassed because you haven’t trimmed for quite some time and, although it’s not a forest, it certainly isn’t trimmed nice and neat. Dirk doesn’t seem to mind and simply moves the pubic hair aside with his thumbs (really it’s that simple, you don’t quite understand why it’s seen as such a turn off) before spreading you open and diving in, for a lack of a better term.

It’s obvious that he has eaten someone out before by the way he moves his tongue, but you can also tell it’s been quite some time. At first he’s erratic and kind of just laps at you blindly, but he acquires a rhythm after a while and allows you to roll your hips while he alternates between sucking your button and kissing your netherlips. When you’re reduced to moans and whimpers, he pokes his tongue past your petals and as deep as he can possibly go, burying his face in your mound and holding your legs wide open. It takes physical effort not to scream, so you chomp down on your wrist and let him bend you to better plunge his tongue as deep as he can go inside of you.

With every swirl of his tongue and sticky slip-sliding of his lips, you’re ratcheted closer and closer to climax and your hips start bucking frantically against his face. You chant his name under your breath before you suddenly grab his hair and yank him flush up against you. He moans into your mound and his eyes roll back as he mindlessly devours you. With the realization that he’s getting off to this, you toss your head back and arch upwards. Your entire being throbs and quivers around his intruding tongue and your fingers knot tightly in his hair as he milks you for every last drop and swallows it all, save for the spot of drool that leaks out and drips onto the damp sheets below.

When the pleasure turns into overstimulation, you whine at him and he withdraws from between your legs almost reluctantly. He licks his lips and fingers before lowering you back onto the bed and stroking your naked belly again.

“You have… quite the oral fixation,” you pant breathlessly.

“Yeah,” he whispers. He crawls up your form and sucks at your skin for a while longer before you begin to get a tad… curious. With your hands running slowly down his chest, you listen to his breath hitch as you lightly touch his abdomen. He looks down at your hands as they disappear into his boxers, then hisses as your little hand wraps neatly around his cock and caresses him. Dirk bites his lip. “Mm. A little tighter…”

As he hovers over you, he rocks slowly into your hand while you tighten it just so to increase the pressure. After a while the heat becomes too much and you help him wrestle out of his boxers. He lies on his side beside you while you continue to stroke him, working him up from half-mast to full arousal. Little hisses and moans tumble from his lips and he busies himself with playing with your nipples while you continue to work him.

“Does that feel good?” you murmur. Dirk nods enthusiastically and lets out a huff as you run your thumb over the tip. Intrigued now, you reach down to fondle his scrotum with your other hand, caressing them and squeezing lightly, but it doesn’t seem to get him as worked up as you thought. So you continue down lower, lower, until you’re stroking his completely hairless taint and tickling your way down even more until your fingers just barely tease at the cleft of his ass. He gasps loudly and suddenly clutches your hip, digging his fingers in as he thrusts vigorously up into your hand.

“Ah, _ah_ \- Jesus shit yes, _yessss_ , fuck, mmmn-” Dirk chants just as he comes unglued. His cum dribbles out of the tip and onto your hand and you smile while you help him ride it out. He gazes at you blearily for a grand total of five seconds before his eyes roll back and he promptly passes out. You giggle. Of the little things you remember of the drunken night with him all those months ago, him falling right to sleep right after sex is one of them. It’s endearing and cute, you decide, and the knowledge that Dirk isn’t going to leave your bed and that this isn’t just a one night stand puts you at ease.

You sit up, yawning as you do so, and reach over to grab a box of tissues. You clean your hands and dab a bit at the lingering wetness between your legs, then make sure Dirk is dabbed dry too before tossing the tissues and lying down beside Dirk. The oscillating fan in your room makes his hair rustle slightly and you can’t help the little giggle as you fiddle with his cowlick. You smooth down his twitching eyebrows and caress him until he calms beside you and his face becomes peaceful. You’re beginning to wonder if this is the reason he’s always so tired. He never, ever relaxes, not even when he’s asleep.

You’re going to change all of that.

Pulling up a single sheet to cover the two of you in case your father enters your room in the morning, you roll over and snuggle up in your pillow. In his sleep, Dirk curls up behind you and drapes an arm over your waist. Your naked skin presses together and you can feel his flaccid cock now pressed up against your backside, but it doesn’t seem sexual. You figure that your drunkenness on the night of ‘the incident’ was what caused you to believe his dick was so incredibly amazing and long and thick, but truly it is a modest six inches, maybe a quarter inch more. He’s certainly no pencil dick, either, because it’s relatively thick. Not a monstrosity, you muse, but maybe a little over the average thickness.

The thought of Dirk having normal qualities about him that make him human makes you smile. He is not the chiseled statue of a man your mind would like to have you think. As you grow closer to him, you find more of these little flaws, these little chips in his statue, but rather than finding them unattractive, you find them irresistibly intriguing.

You dare to roll over to get a good look at Dirk in the dim light, smiling a little as you study him up close.

His nose is a tad crooked and, as you said, ‘beaky’, the tip of his nose curved downwards ever so slightly. He has a smattering of scars all over his body (presumably from strifing with his brother). You also notice that his wrists have faint marks on them. You at first think that maybe they’re self harm scars and your heart breaks just a little, until you look closer. Your inspection reveals that they’re much too uneven and blotchy to be self harm scars, so you assume that Dirk has used those nimble, elegant fingers of his once or twice on his robotics without using protective gloves. You kiss his hand and wrist anyway. One day, he’ll tell you the tale of his scars, but for now you’re content being a silent observer.

The knuckles of his fingers are a little pronounced, you assume because he cracks his knuckles a lot. He has a birthmark on his right pectoral that looks kind of like… nothing, really. There’s nothing to compare the shape to. It’s hardly visible, given the fact that it’s pure white and the rest of Dirk is maybe a few shades darker. He has mentioned before that the men in his family have had problems with skin pigmentation due to some disease that you can’t remember the name of. All you know is that it comes with an unhealthy fast metabolism that leaves them skinny and too tall, a flawed immune system, and very sensitive eyes. When Dirk was seventeen and still a late bloomer in his development, there had been a scary few months where he had been severely too tall for his still-growing organs and, in turn, his left lung had literally ruptured. He had been in the hospital for a whole month. You had cried for about twenty-seven of those days.

You’re kind of afraid that the ghastly disease will be passed down to your daughter, but if anyone knows how to find the strength to overcome it, it’s Dirk, and you trust that he will teach her if the same thing is passed down to her.

Besides, now Dirk’s body has finally filled out and the scary few years of him being in risk of another lung rupture are long gone. Now a grown man, the worst parts of the disease have either passed or are now no longer a direct threat. No longer does he have asthma and he doesn’t get a cold every week (you’re surprised by this since his apartment is a disaster and his diet is even worse) and the thought of him contracting pneumonia doesn’t send up red flags.

The only thing that really affects him anymore are his eyes (this isn’t the reason why they’re shaded, he claims, he only wishes to look ironic) and his skin. Sure, his colds are a little longer than the average person, but being a genius and all of that mumbo-jumbo has given him the smarts to avoid germs. Kinda. He should really clean his apartment, that dingbat.

And of course the media presents him like a piece of meat, and more than once he and his brother have modeled and their ‘albinism’ as the media calls it is grossly sexualized. You’ve seen filthy statements on Youtube videos and blogs alike saying things like they ‘want Strider sperm so I have a cute albino baby’.

It’s disgusting.

The thought of anyone _wanting_ the disease the Strider brothers share--which, by the way, is _not_ albinism--makes your stomach twist up in angry knots. If only they understood the pain both brothers had to fight through as they grew up without proper support, living with a disease that literally had their life on the line several times. Your hand travels down and almost frantically clutches at your stomach, fear blossoming in your chest.

That is, until another hand touches yours. Dirk doesn’t even open his eyes, but again you find that you hadn’t noticed his snoring coming to a stop.

“She’s fine,” he assures you in a slurred voice. “She’s not going to have it.”

“How’d you know…?” you trail off. You hadn’t said a single word, and he had been asleep!

“Your body language is like an open book,” he murmurs. He still hasn’t opened his eyes, but his hand runs soothingly up and down your side. “It has a less than one percent chance of being passed down to females, ‘cuz it’s in the same family of genes as a string of color blindness.”

You find it ridiculous that he can be scientific to you when he’s half asleep, but it puts you at ease anyway.

“Our daughter… s’not gonna havit,” Dirk practically exhales. He’s beginning to relax again, pulling you in tighter. “Sh’gonna be beautiful an’ healthy like you.”

“Okay,” you whisper, blushing. “Goodnight, Dirk.”

“G’night.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A friend of mine suffered from a disease (I can't remember the exact name of it) that is actually very similar to the disease I described above. He too was grossly tall and thin, so much so that his organs stretched and his lung literally ruptured. Twice. He had to do reconstructive surgery while awake without drugs. So I suppose Jane's thoughts on the matter were somewhat projected by my own thoughts and feelings about it. As far as I'm aware, the rest of Dirk's 'disease' is fictional. And don't worry, it was just a random tirade of Jane's and won't have much relevance to the plot. We can only handle so much ~*~*~*Strider Man Pain~**~*~*~ after all!


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *
> 
> chapter 16 aka dirk strider reveals his kinky side
> 
> Special thanks to cherryburlesque for proofing work (and reminding me that Mount Doom is not called Mount Mordor)

You wake up in the morning feeling very refreshed and very naked. Dirk isn’t in bed with you when you awaken, but you can hear the shower running and you can smell lots of soap being used. Relaxing, you hum to yourself and rub your belly. It’s becoming exponentially bigger, and you wouldn’t be surprised if the blasted thing had grown an inch overnight.

The sound of running water stops, so you wait a while until Dirk emerges in nothing but a towel. You watch him from the bed, lying on your side with the sheets pulled up just barely above the swell of your breasts. He looks over and sees you looking and, smiling, turns to you.

“Good morning,” he says in a tone that is both playful and mischievous. You grin back and nuzzle your pillow.

“Mmm. Good morning,” you reply. “Hehehe.”

“What’s so funny?” Dirk asks defensively as he goes to his backpack on the floor and pulls out a pair of boxers and some jeans. He tugs them on, not minding if you get an eyeful of his rear. Actually, you’re fairly certain he did that on purpose. So when he turns around, you make a point to stretch in a way that has your breasts slipping out of the cover of the sheet. Dirk flashes you a smirk as he zips up his pants.

“I’m just thinking that this is much better than when we woke up the morning of our great big drunken misadventure,” you say. “I don’t feel disgusting and I don’t feel like puking. Oh, and I can actually remember everything.”

“Misadventure?” Dirk scoffs. “Please, Jane. That was an adventure of a lifetime. Ten out of ten, would have an adventure again.”

“Absolutely not,” you tease. “I’m afraid I can’t let you do that, Strider. I much prefer it this way.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Dirk finally agrees. He sits on the edge of the bed and your hand automatically reaches up to stroke his arm with your fingers. He’s soft and slightly damp to the touch. “And this gives me a chance to appreciate… this.”

He gestures to all of you and you blush. Turning a bit towards you, Dirk gently pushes you onto your back so he can see you properly. Of course his eyes immediately go down to your belly, which can be seen easily with the thin sheet over it. His gaze darkens and you shiver, feeling somewhat pinned. One hand reaches out to spread over your stomach, his splayed fingers providing beautiful pressure and making you exhale shakily.

Dirk scans your whole body like a piece of meat, but his eyes are intense and glinting in a way that makes you certain that he sees you as so much more than that. Now both of his hands are framing your belly and for the first time you sort of realize what Jake meant about your belly making him feel manly. You feel vulnerable, completely at the mercy of Dirk Strider’s ministrations, and for the first time you truly realize that it is, in fact, _Dirk’s_ offspring growing and developing inside of you. There’s something downright primal about it that makes goosebumps appear all over your skin.

A moan that you can’t control escapes your lips and Dirk knows exactly what’s going through your head because he gives you that wicked grin that has you writhing. He tugs your sheet down so it’s pooled between your spread thighs and takes your baby bump firmly in both hands.

“I’m alright with this, I think,” he purrs. “You know, with this being all mine, right here.”

His eyebrows rise, silently asking if it’s alright to continue, if you are enjoying this. You nod eagerly and feebly move your hips.

“I mean, I must be pretty potent. All it took was one shot and now look where we are.”

As he says this, he leans forward and licks a stripe across the swell of your stomach. He cups your groin with the other and gently massages your mound. You just slap your hands over your eyes and he stops, tensing beside you and waiting for you to tell him to get away.

“Keep going,” you say, muffled but definitely eager. He relaxes immediately and returns to kneading you.

“How do you feel about this being _my_ baby?” he asks lowly, the extra emphasis on ‘my’ making you choke out a moan. “Answer me, Jane.”

The pressure on your crotch increases and your legs begin to quiver. The weight of your stomach, although not too heavy, feels like it’s pinning you down and making you utterly helpless to this man’s touch and gaze.

“Jane. Answer me right now.”

“It feels good,” you pant heavily. “It feels wonderful.”

“What feels wonderful?”

You whimper.

“ _Jane_. Tell me what feels wonderful.”

“C-Carrying… your baby,” you breathe. Dirk rewards you by actually pressing a finger past your lips and slicking it with your arousal before he lazily circles your clit.

“A collar would look beautiful on you,” he muses. “And a leash. Like my personal, pregnant pet. How does that sound, kitten?”

The dirty talk goes from kinky to downright sinful in exactly twenty words and, with a quick flick of your button, you squeal and come undone in the cup of his hand. Your eyelids flutter as he gently helps you ride it out before withdrawing and smiling. He pats your belly with his clean hand and rubs in a way that’s almost apologetic.

“You’re fucking fantastic, Crocker,” he praises. You go limp and just smile tiredly up at him.

“Where did all of that come from?” you ask. Your voice is kind of hoarse from panting so hard. Dirk pets your stomach and shrugs.

“I don’t know, I’m a kinky guy and your pregnancy is certainly no exception.”

“What do you mean?”

“I find it fascinating that something as simple and animalistic as sex could create… well, this. Human life, I suppose, is fascinating,” Dirk explains. “So… fascination turned into obsession turned into complete and utter turn-on for me.”

“You’re saying that this basketball growing inside of me is a turn-on?” you laugh. Dirk looks at you seriously.

“I’d show you just how fucking sexy it is to me but I don’t know the boundaries you wish to set for the current state of our relationship,” Dirk says in a low, deep voice that has you shivering. “Admittedly… it’s part of the reason I’m afraid.”

“Why?”

“Pregnancy shouldn’t be a fetish. It’s serious fucking business but it makes my dick hard. Like, you should see the shit I used to look up. Some of the uh… porn I used to look at. Featuring… this kind of stuff. Shit, I’m a kinky bastard, why aren’t you disgusted?” he asks. He seems genuinely distressed. You just laugh.

“Oh please. We all have guilty pleasures, Dirk,” you say. “Don’t feel ashamed! If anything I feel flattered.”

“…I know that, but what about the actual kid? I mean, fuck. What… what if I love the idea of the kid being inside of you but then when she actually comes out… what if…”

“You’re afraid of not loving the baby like you love the actual pregnancy?”

“Yes. Obviously the sight of our newborn daughter isn’t going to turn me on for fuck’s sake, you know? But I’m afraid of wishing she was back inside and not loving her. I’m afraid of objectifying a pregnancy, a _very_ serious situation, and not being prepared to love my own infant daughter when she is born. I’ve been afraid of this from the beginning. It’s why I didn’t want to terminate. Because I… I can’t explain it to you, how much… how much I daydream about how it’s truly _my_ baby inside of you,” he’s downright stuttering now and scratching his neck.  “It’s gross, isn’t it? That’s how fucking disgusting I am.”

“It’s not gross,” you say firmly. You sit up and press up against Dirk, resting your head on his shoulder.

“I’m scared,” he admits again. You love how honest he is with you and only you about all of this. It’s so… human. “I don’t want my obsession to become a problem. I want to love her, Jane.”

“You will. I promise you that you will, Dirk. I have the luxury of already being bonded with her in ways I can’t explain! Please trust me when I say that you will,” you plead. He relaxes.

“Well, you’ve always been right, Jane, how can I not trust you?”

“Yes, I am indeed always right,” you giggle. Dirk smiles at you in a way that tells you that he is putting his full trust in you. His hand rises to rest upon your naked bump, rubbing gently with his thumb. You frown after a moment and press your forehead to his shoulder. “Dirk?”

“Hmm?”

“What are we?”

Dirk opens his mouth to say something but he shuts it again. He ponders for a long time and his thumb slowly comes to a stop on your stomach.

“What do you want us to be?”

He’s passing you the baton. The choice is yours. The trust he’s putting in you has your heart throbbing heavily against your rib cage.

“I think I want to try falling in love with you,” you whisper. You hear his breath hitch slightly and you nuzzle against him. “Don’t you think our baby should have a mom and dad who love each other?”

“Yes,” he says softly. “I think I would like to try and fall in love with you, too.”

“We can take it slowly, there’s really no need to rush things,” you say. You lift your head and smile. “Slow as a snail. Slow as dial-up internet! Slow as grass growing!”

Dirk chuckles and pecks your cheek.

“This is a strange turn of events,” he comments. “This isn’t normal behavior for couples, is it? I suppose there may be a small percent of couples who may exhibit this sort of behavior, fuckin’ put the terms right on the table and gamble with their hearts to see if they can just ‘fall in love’. This is worthy of being a shitty rom-com, don’t you think? Perhaps I shall send the idea to my brother, I’m sure he’d find a way to make it-”

You hush him and put a finger to his lips.

“Shut your pie hole, robo-boy,” you say. “You need some lessons in the art of wooing a lady!”

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles around your finger.

“Just stop analyzing this so much,” you say sternly.

“Yes ma’am.”

“No percentages. No probabilities. No odds. And for heaven’s sake, don’t try to use logic on me! For once in your life follow your heart instead of your silly noggin!” you laugh. You knock on Dirk’s skull. He smiles a little but still looks somewhat fretful.

“My heart’s just a tad metallic, baby,” he says with a hint of rhythm that makes you giggle and push at him a little. “Gonna have to melt this steel, keep it real-”

“Oh my goodness, _Dirk!_ ”

“Baby if you want this heart of mine, you’re gonna have to excuse the lime, the grease, the rust built up over time, excuse the splinters, and… I don’t have anything that rhymes with splinters. Shit. Maybe something with ‘winter’.”

“You’re absolutely ridiculous.”

“What if you don’t like what you see?” he asks, solemn again. You just shake your head.

“I think I’ve seen enough glimpses of that mysterious, aloof heart of Dirk Strider over the years to piece you together. And trust me, I like what I see,” you flirt. Dirk smirks and his eyes shine a bit, giving away more than you think he intended. You kiss his cheek. “Now, as much as I love sitting around naked with you, I’ve gotta say that I’m downright starving and I am craving some of those made-to-order omelets that my dad promised.”

“Hell yes,” Dirk says. You get up out of bed and walk to the bathroom, fully aware of Dirk’s eyes on your body and taking full advantage of it. You hop in the shower for a quick rinse and briefly soap up your body. You’ll take a more thorough shower later, but right now you just want something to eat.

Dirk’s still in your bedroom when you come back in a towel, lying on his side and looking at his laptop. You smile at him and slip into some comfortable sweatpants and a t-shirt. It’s raining again today, which cools down the earth and makes you extremely grateful that you live in Washington instead of someplace hot like Florida or Texas.

You and Dirk have breakfast together (your father had slept in, so you decided not to wake him so you could make omelets for everyone yourself) and laugh together when your father comes in and whines about not being able to make breakfast. You get a comment about how you’re glowing and it’s really sweet until your dad asks if the two of you used the condom. You throw a slice of mushroom at him.

Later, while you and Dirk are lounging on the couch together and quietly watching _Elementary_ , his hand rests possessively on your belly. He rubs the entire expanse of it, from the very top to the very bottom to the farthest right and the farthest left. It makes you feel comfortable and safe, so you melt into his hold.

“Perhaps we should go on a date of sorts,” Dirk says after a while.

“Hmm?” you hum, gently bumping your head against his chin. He kisses the top of your hair.

“Well, that’s how most relationships start, isn’t it? The first step to a picture perfect romance.”

“Are you analyzing this, Mister Strider?” you ask suspiciously. Dirk chuckles against your hair.

“No, of course not. This is my foolproof, one hundred percent genuine way of asking you out on a date. Smooth, hm?”

“Not at all,” you giggle. Your voice lowers to a murmur. “But I love the effort. I hereby accept your offer for a date, Strider, but I must have you know that I am no easy woman to woo.”

“Of course.”

“And no crazy shenanigans, either! I could go without fireworks or any strange things. I would much prefer a normal date, such as dinner or a nice stroll through the park,” you say. Dirk smiles and nuzzles your neck.

“That’s a promise,” he says. “One classic, normal, woo-worthy date coming right up.”

“Mmm,” you hum happily. As you do, Dirk takes your chin with his first two fingers and turns your head so he can lean in. You let him believe you’re going to let him kiss you by shutting your eyes and parting your lips. Just as he’s about to close the distance, you turn your head away and cause him to clumsily kiss your ear. You giggle as he huffs. “Sorry, Strider, but I am not a kiss-on-the-first-date kinda gal.”

“But you’ll have sex?” Dirk murmurs in your ear, chuckling lightly when you shiver. “Very, very scandalous, Miss Crocker.”

“Well, having a man in bed can do things to a lady,” you tease. “Besides, there’s nothing wrong with pleasure to release the tension every once and a while.”

“It seems you are implying that casual sex is a thing you’d like to do,” Dirk says suggestively.

“Why not? It feels good and I trust you,” you say. Dirk grins.

“If that’s what you want, then I will certainly supply,” he says. “Boundaries?”

“No kissing on the lips,” you say, counting it on your pointer finger. As you think of more, you look up at the ceiling. “Um… I guess no trying to hop into the shower while I’m in there.”

“I wouldn’t want to, anyway. Your showers are so damn cold and short.”

“ _My_ showers? Excuse you, my good sir, but if you are implying that my showers are abnormal in the least, then you are sorely mistaken! I’m sorry, but there is nothing ‘right’ about your hour long, hot-as-Mordor infinity showers. There is no possible way that there is enough hot water in all of Washington to satisfy you. You are a shower fiend,” you tease. With every sentence, Dirk sticks his tongue out further and further at you until you can’t help but laugh. “Quit it!”

“If long showers are wrong, then I don’t want to be right. Don’t you like scalding hot showers? It’s as if it burns the dead skin right off,” Dirk says.

“I enjoy alternating between hot and cold. I wash myself in hot to rid myself of the daily dirt and grime, then switch to cold to rinse off, cool down, and come out chipper and cool as a cucumber! It certainly wakes me up in the morning,” you say. Dirk nuzzles against you and you hum contentedly.

“I enjoy learning these things about you,” he murmurs in your ear. “All of these little quirks.”

“You never noticed them in all of the… probably _eighteen_ years of knowing each other?” you ask, surprised. Dirk shrugs.

“I may have, but it never intrigued me as much as it does now. I didn’t have a reason to remember it back then, but now I can’t stop thinking about all of these little stupid things you do. Like when you have to make sure a certain side of your pillow is facing upwards when you go to bed, or how you meticulously clean up after yourself when you bake so the kitchen is spotless by the time the cupcakes are in the oven. When you fiddle with your bangs so they curl neatly on your forehead.”

“Oh my goodness gracious,” you groan, hiding your blushing face. “Confound it, Dirk! You made me blush!”

“I like that too,” he says. If he had a puppy tail, you think it would be wagging right now. “When you get all shy. It’s dumb.”

“Very smooth, Strider,” you grumble through your hands. You peek at him through your fingers. “Call my mannerisms dumb, will you!”

“No, I mean… ugh, Christ. I’m bad at this, I apologize. Allow me to start over. I enjoy it when you’re so honestly expressive.”

“You mean all the time?” you ask teasingly. You give him a cheeky grin and he bumps your head with his.

“Yes. All the time.”


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter 17 aka jane becomes a woman
> 
> Special thanks to cherryburlesque for proofing work.

The fluffy good times do not last as long as you’d like. Dirk stays over for much longer periods of time until one day he just brings his cat to your house (a Calico, you come to find. Once Dirk finds out Dave Jr. is, in fact, a female, he finds it to be hilariously ironic and keeps the name) and stays for _days_ at a time. He is most certainly welcome, too. Your dad loves the company, and _you_ love it when Dirk gets that look in his eyes, rolls you gently onto your back, and puts that oral fixation of his to use. The cat is nice company too, and is surprisingly well-behaved and tame. She talks a lot, however, so you constantly hear meowing throughout the house.

You officially enter your third trimester and you’re still feeling confident about keeping your baby and taking care of her with Dirk. Even though you’re getting very bloated and you’ve begun to develop just a bit of a wobble when you walk, you stay optimistic. Nothing, absolutely nothing could break your mood.

Except a surprise visitor.

You’re standing in your kitchen, humming while you whisk cake batter in a mixing bowl and plan one of the recipes for your future bakery. Your father is currently at work, and Dirk left for a meeting with a company to discuss his new Auto Responder upgrade. This leaves you home alone with the cat, who rubs at your legs and meows until you laugh and scoop out half a can of Fancy Feast for her. Dave Jr. purrs at you and flicks you with her tail, which is a little crooked just like the rest of her. She may be just a tad mangy and crickety, but she’s quite possibly the kindest cat you’ve ever met.

You’re petting the cat with your foot and drawing throaty purrs from her when you hear a sharp rapping at the door. Looking up, you wipe your hands on your apron and pad to the front door. You open it to reveal Rose Lalonde, who is looking prim and proper as per usual. You have a smile on your lips when you see her, but upon gazing upon the expression on her face, your stomach drops. Pure ice emanates from her in thick waves that have you shakily backing up while she enters and closes the door softly behind her.

“Roxy told me you’re keeping the baby,” she states simply. Her voice is honey smooth but you can just _feel_ the venom. You tremble like a little rabbit in front of the other woman, who is usually a balance between snarky, witty, and intimidating. Now she is just wolfish. “Why don’t you please take a seat, dear. I have much I need to discuss with you.”

“I’ll put on some tea-” you begin.

“ _Sit_.”

She spits the word and you scramble to sit down on the couch. She does not sit down, but instead she paces slowly back and forth.

“I have come to ask you, no, _tell_ you to reconsider your choice,” Rose says. She stops before you and crosses her arms over her chest. You can’t look her in the eye. “You may think you have a clue as to what you’re doing, young lady, and your father may be turning to blind eye to this, but I refuse. Refuse, I say. I do not wish to stand by and watch a young woman throw her life away.”

“I’m not throwing my life away. Dirk and I-”

“Listen to yourself,” she hisses. You’ve never seen her this angry before and it’s utterly terrifying. “You are lost, Jane Crocker, in your fantasy world where everything turns out alright. Do you know the probability of a man leaving the woman he impregnated by accident? Very, very high. Do you wish to destroy what you and your best friend have in order to chase this little dream of yours?”

“He wouldn’t-”

“He would,” Rose snaps. “Dirk may be a well advanced and perhaps ingenious human being, but he is still a man. And he is still a child. _You_ are a child. You are both petty children with the wool pulled over both of your eyes. It is time to awaken from your dreams and make the only choice that is adult.”

Rose reaches into her bag and tosses down a folder onto the coffee table.

“Ads. For couples willing to adopt your baby,” Rose says sharply. “Couples who are ready and well-prepared and well- _funded_.”

“I am ready!” you protest, raising your voice as an inkling of anger begins brewing in the pit of your stomach. Rose downright cackles at you, then scoffs and puts her hands on her hips.

“Yes? You’re ready? A single mother six months pregnant, still living in her father’s house, fresh out of college with a massive debt to pay for her student loans, with no job and no money to her name?” Rose says condescendingly. “Sounds like a foolproof plan.”

You stand now, facing off to Rose with a beet red face and glinting eyes. Your fists curl at your sides.

“I have plans that I am fully aware of! I know what I’d like to do with my life, Miss Lalonde, and I think that this is none of your business!”

“It is my business because you are actively choosing to throw your life away, just like I did,” Rose snaps. You puff out your chest and stand up to her strongly, looking her directly in the eye.

“I chose this after much thought and consideration!”

“What do you expect? To follow your dreams blindly with a baby on your hip? You think you’re going to get that bakery? You think you’re going to go about your usual daily life? You think that baby isn’t going to crush every single dream you have? And even if he does stay with you, do you honestly believe Dirk would give up his own job? Which one of you is going to take the fall, Jane? The one who has a well-paying job with a high payout or the one who wants to start a business during this recession with not a single penny in her account? Did you assume it was going to be _Dirk?_ ”

Your lips flap for a second and Rose continues, slowly coming forward and pointing an accusing finger at you.

“You are not ready. You. Are. A child!” Rose barks right in your face. Her face is more animated and expressive than you have ever seen it.

“I’m more ready than you were!” you yell right back. In an instant, there’s a sharp crack as you’re slapped right across the face. Your head snaps to the side and your glasses are knocked askew. You look at Rose and her eyes are wild, her hair standing on end, pure darkness in her eyes.

You don’t hold back. You slap _her_ across the face and you’re pretty sure it’s about to descend into a full on fistfight until Rose turns back to you, her face scrunched up and her hand covering her reddening cheek.

“I thought I could do it,” Rose hisses at you. Her voice is low and gravelly, breaking heavily. “I thought that, because I was strong, I was an above-average woman, I could handle such a big responsibility by myself. I was wrong. I was so very wrong. Dave was by my side at that time, just like Dirk is at your side now.”

She locks up and trembles and you see Rose beginning to crack under the surface, her sharp eyes becoming cloudy and watery.

“He was there as my friend and I _still_ couldn’t do it. I couldn’t handle the pressure, the humiliation, and I couldn’t stand to see myself break,” she continues. She unbuttons her suit jacket and lifts the shirt underneath to reveal a plethora of scars. Many of them are stretch marks. A long, straight scar runs across her belly from a past C-section.

Among them, a series of small lines all up and down her thin, taut belly. You swallow and your eyes go wide as you slap your hand over your mouth. You know what this is implying but you don’t want to go there. You don’t want to think about the strongest, most refined woman you know sitting alone inflicting pain upon herself.

With her point being made, Rose shoves her shirt down and looks away.

“I could not trust another man and I became bitter and jaded. I became angry, so angry that the ink flowed from my pen like blood, boiling hot and painful to see and to read. I became an alcoholic. I took out my fury on my own daughter, as if it was her fault that my dreams were ripped from me at such a young age. I became a poor role model. I was absent from her life. And now _she_ is alcoholic,” Rose spits. You swallow.

“You kept Roxy be…because…”

“I thought I could handle it. Just. Like. You,” she whispers. She shakes her head as she squints at you like you’re the scum of the earth. “I can see it in your eyes, that childish hope and gullibility. It is worthy of being on _Sixteen and Pregnant_ , that is how truly ignorant of reality you are, Jane. You think that having your friends by your side will make it easier? You’re wrong.”

Your nails dig into your palms, leaving angry red crescents in their wake.

“I know you’re upset, but you do not understand the financial problems with your decision. You do not understand the commitment you must make. And you certainly do not understand that you are simply not ready for this. Not alone.”

“I won’t be alone,” you say. Rose squints.

“Did you not hear a word I just said?”

“I heard every single bit, Miss Lalonde.”

“A friend ‘helping out’ is not the same as a person dedicated to the baby and you equally,” Rose says.

“He won’t be just my friend,” you say. “We are going into this together. On the same documents, you could say. Under the same name.”

“You’re saying that you’re going to marry Dirk Strider.”

It’s not a question. You take a deep, shuddering breath.

“Yes. Because… because I’m falling in love with him.”

“Do you honestly believe he will be as devoted to your baby as you are?” Rose asks condescendingly.

“Yes, I do, Miss Lalonde,” you murmur. The two of you stand still, facing each other in a stagnant battle of wits, two women with nothing but a baby standing between the two of you.

You hear the front door open and your dad walks in. He sees the two of you and promptly U-turns out of the house. The both of you ignore it, still staring at each other directly in the eyes. You want to look away but you also want her to know how serious you are.

“Your dream has always been to own a bakery,” Rose says. “You’ll have to put that on hold for your child. You can’t expect Dirk to give up his job, given the amount of money he makes. You’ll need that money to put towards raising the baby. If you’re keeping this baby, say goodbye to ‘Jane’s Bakery’ and hello to wasting away for eighteen years. It’s 2013, Jane, women aren’t chained down to being housewives any longer. Women have come so far! Don’t let yourself become part of the stereotype.”

“I don’t think you know me as well as you claim,” you say after a long time. “Yes, it has always been my dream to own a bakery. But it has also always been my dream to start a family of my own. To get married, to have children. What difference does it make if I start now or when I originally planned? Right after college, which just so happens to be right _now_. Miss Lalonde, I do not know what dreams you had in mind before you became pregnant with Roxy. Perhaps you wished to travel the globe, to meet new people and to write your novels in unbelievable places. Perhaps you wanted to be a pilot, or a stunt woman! But those were _your_ dreams. These are _mine_. To live comfortably. To be a mother. To bake and cook and be all of that stereotypical ‘housewife’ malarkey because that is _my_ choice as a woman!”

You raise your voice at the end and Rose blinks at you.

“Just because your idea of what a twenty-one year old woman’s life should look like is that I should be out ‘advancing’ society and women’s rights doesn’t mean that it is mine! _Wanting_ and _choosing_ this docile, domestic life does not make me less of a woman! And it does not make me less of an adult!” you yell. “And furthermore, Miss Lalonde, what I do is none of your snippity, gosh darned, _friggin’_ beeswax, so don’t you _dare_ come into _my_ house, get into _my_ business, and shove _your_ beliefs and _your_ complexes down _my_ throat, because I do not want to keep my daughter just to prove that I am strong, I want to keep my daughter because _I want to start a family!_

“I was hesitant at first because it was unplanned. I was hesitant because I had originally wanted to do this after college. But now I realize that there is nothing wrong with stepping up to the plate just a tad early. Life is precious and short and I do not wish to spend time wallowing in my own thoughts, wondering what age I become ‘old enough’ to follow my heart,” you say. You jab your finger at Rose’s chest. “So _no_ , Miss Lalonde, I think it is _you_ who is wrong. You are wrong about me, about my goals in life, and you are wrong to boss me around like I am your own child to lecture. You have no right to project your own insecurities onto me. You have no right to call _me_ a child. And you most certainly have no right to tell me that I contribute to the negative stereotype of ‘submissive’ little housewives by _choosing_ to live this way!”

You finish with a sharp nod of your head. No tears fall.

“This is my life. These are _my_ choices.”

“…Very well,” Rose says after a long time. She quietly stoops to scoop up the advertisements she left on the table before bringing you in for a hug. “You understand that this was not a personal attack. Rather, it was a test. Out of genuine concern for you, of course.”

“Yes,” you say as you smile and embrace her back.

“I’d like you to be a bridesmaid at my wedding.”

“You mean it?”

“Of course. You mean so much to me, Jane,” Rose says. She pulls away and holds you by the shoulders. “If you didn’t, I would not be here today.”

“I didn’t let what you said go in one ear and out the other,” you say seriously. “Consider this me heeding your warning. This is going to be very hard, but I’m not going to be alone.”

Rose hugs you again.

“Don’t become bitter and broken,” Rose murmurs before kissing your temple. “Don’t let self hatred and regret eat away at the best years of your life. Don’t be the woman who realizes how much time she has wasted hating the world by the time she’s forty. Don’t become me, Jane.”

“I won’t.”

“Good girl,” Rose says. She clears her throat and pulls away, patting your cheek. “Now, I hate to run so soon, but I’m afraid I put Dave in charge of wedding decorations and I can feel the irony from here. I will contact you regarding information on bridesmaid dresses. Also, I will be sure to select something comfortable to accommodate your figure.”

“Thank you,” you say politely. Rose assures you one last time that she did not mean to hurt you in any way, kisses your cheek, and calmly exits the house. You sigh and run a hand through your hair as Dad enters, looking dumbfounded.

“Sweetpea? Why was Miss Lalonde here and why were the two of you staring each other down like wild, hungry animals?” Dad asks. You shrug.

“We were just having a talk,” you say sweetly. While Dad just goes on looking confused, you go to him and kiss his cheek. “And I have made a few decisions.”

“Oh?”

“Yes,” you say. You go to the kitchen and your father follows. You finally finish up the cake batter, pour it into some pans, then slide it into the oven. You finish up your recipe and close the spiral notebook. Smiling, you run your hand over the cover. “I have decided to put some things on hold.”

“Oh, I see,” your dad says, understanding immediately. “I gave you the benefit of the doubt, Jane, and you have made me incredibly proud. Realizing that some things will just have to wait is always hard.”

“It hurts,” you admit. You take your worn recipe book into your arms and squeeze. “It hurts to put my dream bakery on the backburner, but it’s time I realize that there are more important matters on my hands right now.”

“Having a baby doesn’t mean giving up completely on what you love,” Dad says gently. He puts his hand on your shoulder and rubs your back. “It doesn’t mean giving up completely on your dreams, either. It makes everything more difficult, sure, but oh-so worth it in the end when you finally achieve those goals.”

“Yes.”

“When you were just a little girl you used to carry your stuffed animals around and cradle them and put them to bed every single night. And at least twice a week you’d ask me if you’d make a good mommy,” Dad says. You smile at the vague, hazy memory of wheeling your old stuffed rabbit around in your old baby stroller. “And I would say yes, just to humor you and see that adorable smile of yours.”

“Dad, do you think I’ll make a good mommy?” you ask. Dad smiles and kisses your temple.

“I think I will defer that judgment onto you.”

“Then I say yes. Most certainly, one hundred percent yes.”

“I trust you, pumpkin.”

Dad brings you into a hug that lasts for a few good minutes before you pull away and hold him by the elbows.

“I won’t be staying here,” you announce. “I have a lot to discuss with Dirk when he gets home. Specifically, our living arrangements. You understand why I made this choice, right?”

“A baby bird must leave her nest at some point,” Dad says whimsically. “But as your father, I require you to visit me as much as you possibly can.”

You laugh and stand up on tiptoes to kiss his cheek.

“I can’t depend on you for everything,” you say. “I don’t want to be a burden.”

“You have never been a burden, my darling.”

“But I’ve been holding you back,” you say. Dad’s eyes soften as you gently pat his head and sweep his hair forward so it covers his bald spot. “Dad, I want you to find someone. Someone that makes you happy. Mom would’ve wanted you to find someone to love.”

“You’re right,” Dad sighs. “I suppose you were taking care of me just as much as I was taking care of you. Maybe this old crow should leave the nest, too.”

“I love you, Dad,” you say quietly. You hide your face in his chest and hold his shirt. He envelops you in his arms and squeezes hard. You don’t rush him to let go because you know he’s trying hard to keep himself together right now. Finally he pulls away; chin shaking slightly as he smiles.

“I love you too, Jane.”


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to cherryburlesque for proofing work.
> 
> The cover of No Rain is finally here! Take a look here: http://zamii070.tumblr.com/post/53398452154
> 
> Be sure to follow Zami for more of her wonderful art! 8D

“Ugh! You’re _unbearable!_ ”

“You’re no treat yourself, Crocker. Now stop moping and get over here.”

“Absolutely not. Not until you take it back!”

“I suppose I’ll just have to force my hand.”

“You. Wouldn’t. Dare.”

You scream at the top of your lungs as Dirk grabs you from behind and scoops you up into his arms, laughing as you shriek and cling to him for dear life. He swings you around, making the sash of your maternity top billow out behind you. When he sets you back down, you wobble and stick your tongue out at him.

“We’re not getting orange curtains and that’s _final_ ,” you say. He just chuckles and backs you towards his bed. You’re currently at Dirk’s apartment while Dad enjoys some alone time at the house. It’s nice and quiet at Dirk’s place and, although it’s quite dirty, there’s something very intimate about it.

The two of you tumble on the bed and you smile up at Dirk as he kisses your belly through your shirt. He then turns back to his laptop, sitting cross-legged on the bed, and continues to scroll through Amazon. His back is to you, but you’re curled up directly behind him with your thighs pressed to his lower back and your head supported under a fluffy pillow. You absently rub your baby bump as Dirk looks. You smile as you feel the baby shift and move around inside of you. You haven’t told Dirk yet; you want him to feel it for himself and be pleasantly surprised.

“Let’s save the curtains for later,” you say. “We haven’t even seen the houses yet!”

“Alright. Anything else we should do before the agent gets here?” Dirk asks. You sit up and think for a moment while you run your hand up and down your belly.

“Something to eat,” you say as you get out of bed and stretch. “Anything in particular you’d like?”

“Anything you make is delicious to me, baby,” Dirk says smoothly. You just roll your eyes and exit the bedroom.

The floor is just as messy as it was six months ago, but now there is a path made from the bedroom to the kitchen so you don’t step on anything with your bare feet. You make your way to the kitchen, where the cupboards have been stocked with a few things specifically for your use whenever you come over. You make a simple batch of brownies, promising yourself that you and Dirk will have a more nutritious dinner on your date tonight.

Dirk emerges from the bedroom all dressed and ready to go just as you pull the brownies from the oven. The inside still smells like burnt stuffing from when you preheated it a few weeks ago and the smuppets inside had caught on fire. However, the brownies are just fine, so you turn and smile at Dirk as he approaches.

“Barefoot, pregnant, and baking,” Dirk says in a teasing tone. “What would Susan B. Anthony think?”

“She’d be very pleased that I had the right to choose this lifestyle,” you counter. Dirk grins and pokes at the brownies until you slap his wrists away. “For goodness sakes, Dirk! Just wait for a while!”

“Fine, fine,” he says. He takes a seat at the stool at the island counter. “But in all seriousness, ask me if you need help with anything. Like if you want me to carry the baby for a while, I’m totally your man.”

You tip your head back and laugh cheerfully while you grab a knife out of the silverware drawer.

“That’d be the day, wouldn’t it?” you ask. Dirk smirks.

“I can help you cook if you’d like?”

“Hmm. I must admit that you are getting better under my wing,” you say. “Perhaps too good. I insist that you stop learning everything I teach you so fast so I don’t become jealous of your new cooking skills!”

“Are you telling me to dumb myself down?”

“I’m telling you to not step on my toes! Baking is _my_ territory, mister. You’re only allowed in my territory because it feels nice to be able to teach _you_ something for once. You and your friggin’… huge IQ and your engineering accomplishments. If only all those fancy magazines knew of your obsession with puppets!” you say. “I assure you that women wouldn’t be quite so keen to trip all over themselves to get a taste of the great Strider himself!”

“Ouch,” Dirk says. He puts his chin in his hands. “Mm, I like it when you talk dirty to me.”

“You’re impossible.”

“You love it.”

“Perhaps a little.”

You turn your back to him and give him a coy look over your shoulder while a smile lights up his face. You much prefer it when he’s without his shades because it’s easier to see the crinkles around his eyes when he smiles.

“Was that a confession I just heard, Crocker?” he asks lowly. You turn completely away and turn up your nose.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

You feel arms slip around your waist and a nose nuzzling against your cheek. Chortling, you struggle a bit in his grasp.

“Tell me, damn you,” he says. “There’s no way I’m losing this game.”

“Absolutely not,” you tease. “I won’t say it until you do.”

“Then it seems we are at a stalemate, Crocker. Perhaps I’ll have to get it out of you using other means.”

“Are you getting fresh with me, Dirk? Where exactly is your hand going?”

“You know exactly where I’m going with this.”

“Ohohoho.”

The two of you giggle and tease each other in a rather adult manner. Dirk is just pulling the collar of your shirt and your bra strap aside when the buzzer sounds.

“Oh my. I believe the agent has arrived,” you say. You easily pull out of Dirk’s grasp while he’s left with an unsightly lump in the front of his pants. You stick your tongue out at him and press the button on the intercom by the door. “We’ll be right down! Hurry up, Dirk.”

“Ugh, let’s just skip it today. Now I’m all riled up,” Dirk grumbles. He looks down at himself and points at his crotch as if he’s scolding it. You roll your eyes.

“Just think about… I don’t know, my dad.”

“Jane, you and I both know that literally everyone wants a piece of your hot dad’s ass and that thinking about him doesn’t help at all.”

“Think about Dave and Rose doing dirty things!”

“...That worked a little too well. I think it fell off.”

“Oh, just hush up and hurry!”

* * *

 

“Oh my goodness, what a beautiful view,” you say as you look out the window from the master bedroom on the second story of the house you and Dirk are currently taking a look at. Your agent stands behind the two of you, smiling as he tucks a clipboard under his arm. “Isn’t this gorgeous, Dirk?”

“Yeah,” he says. His hands are in his pockets and his lips are in a straight line as he gazes out the window from behind his shades. “I like the distance from the neighbors as well. And the lawn. But Jane, is this big enough for you?”

You blink.

“What could you possibly mean? The size is just perfect,” you say. “We could turn the upstairs guest bedroom into a nursery and the downstairs guest bedroom could be a personal study for you and all of your robot junk.”

“It’s not junk,” Dirk protests. You grin at him.

“Frankly the only thing wrong with this house is that the bathrooms need renovation, the carpet in the basement needs to be replaced, and there’s some yard work that needs to be done,” you list off. Dirk nods and considers this.

“It is a pretty sweet house,” he admits. “I just want to make sure there’ll be enough room.”

“This house is probably twice the size of Dad’s house!” you exclaim. “And there is going to be only three of us.”

“And Dave Jr.,” Dirk adds. You laugh and give a magnificent roll of your eyes.

“Yes, yes, of course. There will be room for Dave Jr. too.”

“Then is it settled?”

“I think so,” you say, putting your hands on your hips. “This is so exciting!”

“Mmm. Let’s place an offer, then.”

“The current bid is one hundred and twenty-four thousand dollars,” your agent says, looking at his keyboard. “The seller is looking for one-fifty but is very open to negotiations.”

“Sure, one-fifty it is,” Dirk says easily. Your eyebrows shoot up.

“Dirk!” you blurt. “You can’t just decide so easily like that!”

“Why not?” he asks. He looks genuinely confused. “I make a half a million dollars a year for attending meetings and press conferences, taking a few business trips, and tinkering around with scraps of metal.”

You glare at him and blow a curl of hair out of your face while the agent looks on with his mouth hanging open.

“We _could_ live in a mansion, Jane,” Dirk reminds you. “Like that other house we looked at earlier.”

“It just seemed so big and lonely,” you say. “Plus that house was… mind blowingly expensive.”

“Four hundred thousand dollars is pocket change.”

“I will never understand rich people,” you grumble. “Our poor daughter! She will be spoiled rotten! Dirk, _please_ try to negotiate instead of waving your money around like this. I know it isn’t much to you, but I don’t want this sort of frivolous behavior about spending money to be passed down to our daughter. Okay?”

Dirk pinches his lips together and thinks for a long time before nodding.

“Alright. Then I’ll change my offer to one-thirty. Is that alright with you, Miss Bossypants?”

“Much better,” you say. You hug Dirk and he rubs your shoulders. The agent nods dumbly and writes the offer down.

“Ex…excuse me, but are you planning on buying this house up front? Without loans?” the agent asks. Dirk nods and shrugs.

“Well yeah. Easier than paying interest on bank loans and shit, right?”

“And… how old are you?”

“Twenty-two.”

There’s a long silence before the agent hands Dirk the clipboard.

“…If I could just get your signature, sir.” 

* * *

 

You pick at your meal while on your date with Dirk, and an uncomfortable silence sits between the two of you. He takes a sip of cranberry juice (he had been a gentleman and had turned down the wine after seeing the look on your face) and looks around. Finally, you muster up the courage to speak.

“I’m worried.”

“Hm?”

“Worried,” you repeat. You look up at Dirk with furrowed brows. “This is too easy, Dirk. I don’t particularly like it.”

“What do you mean?” he asks. He takes his shades off so the two of you can look evenly at each other, then rims his glass with his index finger.

“Rose came over a few days ago and… yelled at me about how I’m a child and how I have no idea what I’m up against. Yet everything is going our way. We’ve made an offer on a beautiful house in a beautiful neighborhood that only needs a few things fixed up, we’re planning on doing this together, and financially we could send our daughter to Harvard ten times and still have money leftover to buy a vacation mansion on the shores of Honolulu. And you know, I bet you could even buy your own island, Dirk. You could probably run your own _country_ on an island. It just feels like everything is too good to be true. I’m just waiting for everything to go horribly wrong,” you explain. Dirk nods understandingly and rests his folded arms on the table.

“I get where you’re coming from and I sometimes feel the same way,” he says. You brush a lock of hair behind your ear and take a deep breath. “And by the way, I’m not rich enough to own Honolulu. I’m a multi-millionaire but only in the single digits.”

You offer him a weak smile.

“You poor baby,” you tease. Dirk gives you his best crooked grin. You frown again after a few seconds and shrug. “I suppose I’m just being paranoid. This all just seems so surreal, with all of this malarkey going our way. It’s just so much at once. Buying a house this young makes me feel… I don’t know. Younger? Yes, it makes me feel much younger than I really am. It’s intimidating.”

“Many first-time home owners feel that way. Dave was like that when his first script got accepted in Hollywood. The kid couldn’t even buy cigarettes yet and he directed his own top seller at the box office. I felt that way when I met the president of the United States and debriefed him on new military technology that saved thousands of American lives and they couldn’t even serve me alcohol. Sometimes we’ve got so much going for us that it feels like some sort of crazy cartoon,” Dirk says. “You get used to it after a while.”

“I suppose a normal family is something that I simply can’t have,” you laugh. “My best friends are known around the world, rich, and famous, and I’m just little Plain Jane with a very normal dad and a very normal house with a very normal bachelor’s degree and a thing for baking. I’m just so… boring, while you guys are doing amazing, exciting things.”

“Jane,” Dirk says. His voice is stern. “Please don’t. You haven’t had life served to you on a silver platter. You’ve worked for everything that you are. You’ve been faced with some of the hardest shit ever; your mom died, college, you’re pregnant, all that stuff. Yet you can stay calm and optimistic about it. You’re an unbelievable girl and there’s… well, there’s truly nothing more that I want in a woman. You’re not ‘plain’ to me.”

He reaches across the table and puts his hand upon yours. You smile bashfully and he grins right back at you.

“Besides, who doesn’t want a baker in their life?” he asks. You smile at first but soon frown and turn your hand over to squeeze his hand back.

“Dirk, I’ve been meaning to speak to you about that. I’m going to put the bakery on hold,” you say. Dirk stares at you for a moment in confusion.

“Wait, what?”

“I’m putting the bakery on hold,” you repeat patiently. Taking a deep breath, you run your thumb over the back of Dirk’s hand. “I realize now that there are more important fish to fry first. I do not expect you to give up your job.”

“Jane, don’t be ridiculous. If this is about not having enough time to watch the kid, we can just have a nanny do it, or Jake and Roxy-”

“No,” you say. “In a way, Rose was right when she lectured me, in that I can’t be a child about this. I need to make an adult decision, and right now, you keeping your very successful, very high-paying job while I become a stay-at-home mother is our best option.”

“Jane…” Dirk whispers. He looks down at the table. “I wanted to keep the baby on the terms that I would take care of things and you can just keep living your life normally.”

“We are financially set. A hundred times over, even! We are in the absolute best case scenario with money. We’re going to do this together, and we’re about to have our very own home! A real home! But Dirk, being devoted to this isn’t just about having the money to take care of the baby. It’s about being _emotionally_ devoted as well. Having massive sums of money only further solidifies my decision. We have the _very_ rare privilege of having lots of money! Not working and being financially _able_ to stay home to take care of the baby means that I _must_. This isn’t just about me anymore. I’m willing to sacrifice the bakery for her.”

Dirk puts his head down and pinches the bridge of his nose. He scrunches his eyes shut.

“We should have terminated,” he whispers. Your blood turns to ice.

“ _What?_ ”

“I never wanted you to give up everything you’ve ever worked for because of my mistake. We should’ve terminated, we…” Dirk trails off, seeing the complete and utter hurt in your eyes. He looks away.

“I can’t believe you,” you say. Dirk nods.

“I know. I’m sorry.”

You shake your head and cross your arms while Dirk sulks across from you. There’s a long pause before the baby gives a very strong kick and has you yelping. Dirk jumps and looks like he’s about to launch across the table to help. Upon seeing that you’re fine, he half-stands from his seat.

“Are you alright?” he asks. You nod, wincing.

“The baby kicked really hard.”

Dirk slowly sinks back into his seat and stares with his jaw hanging open.

“She’s moving? How long has this been going on?”

“For a few weeks now. I wanted it to be a surprise but she never seems to kick when you’re touching my tummy,” you say with a giggle at Dirk’s expression. You remember you’re supposed to be mad at him but… oh, what the heck. You take a deep breath and consider his side. Okay, he’s feeling upset because he got you pregnant. He’s upset because, to him, you essentially wasted four years of your life in college only to give it up for at least two decades of emotional commitment that you can’t back out of no matter what the circumstance. He has reason to be upset.

Stay calm… stay calm…

“Don’t get off topic, Strider!” you bark. Crumbs. “I can’t believe what I’m hearing out of you right now. ‘We should’ve terminated’, is that really what this is to you? A _burden?_ ”

“You know it’s not like that, Jane,” Dirk says softly. You sigh and take a deep breath. “Please calm down. Don’t fly off the handle. Please?”

“Fine. You have exactly ten seconds to explain yourself!”

“You’ve wanted this for so long. You’ve told me your dreams a thousand times, and now you’re deciding to just throw it all away? Please, at least let me give up my job to take care of her while you work. Please Jane. Please don’t do this,” Dirk downright begs.

“That isn’t practical. The things you do brings in probably five _times_ , if not more, of what I would make at a bakery. It’s obvious what the choice should be,” you say.

“But-”

“Dirk, there’s something about my dreams that I didn’t tell you,” you whisper. Dirk leans in, eyebrows raised, his eyes sad and angry and confused all at the same time. “Okay? Do you remember the time we cuddled on the couch and we talked about all of our hopes and dreams?”

“I believe so.”

“What I didn’t mention… that part of my dream is this. This right here. Having a baby and raising him or her and starting a family of my very own. And that day, you asked me about… what else _you_ could possibly dream about.”

“And you said to own a carnival or something.”

“You’re right,” you croak. Your face reddens and you look away as your eyes get watery. “But I wasn’t… I wasn’t thinking that; secretly I hoped that maybe you’d… have the same dream, like me, to get married, start a family.”

“Oh, Jane.”

“And I was too friggin’ scared to say something because I knew it wasn’t what you wanted,” you continue. You hiccup softly, attracting the attention of a few other patrons at the restaurant. “I thought you’d see me differently if that came out of my mouth.”

“Nononono,” Dirk chants softly, coming around to your side of the booth and sliding in so he can hold you close. “No, of course I wouldn’t have.”

“I’m not giving up on my dreams,” you sniffle. You bury your face in his shirt. “I’m living it.”

You feel Dirk exhale shakily before pressing a chaste kiss to your shoulder and holding you tight.

“I’m sorry I said what I did. About the termination,” he murmurs. “And I’m sorry I made it seem as if I would think of you differently if you told me the rest of your goals in life.”

“You only wanted what’s best for me. You’re forgiven. I’m sorry for making a scene.”

Dirk laughs and pulls away to lovingly pat your cheek.

“Then I will work as hard as I can to make this work out for you.”

“For us,” you correct. “I want to share this with you.”

“I suppose I had nothing else going for me in life,” Dirk chuckles. “Done went too fast, I did. Damn well near did everything there is to do in life before I was twenty.”

You laugh at Dirk’s forced Southern accent and shove at him, only for him to hold you closer.

“What say you, Strider? Would you like a big ol’ slice of Jane’s Extra Special Dreams-and-Wishes cake?”

“Fuck yeah I do. I’ll take the piece with the big frosting fetus, please.”


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *
> 
> Special thanks to cherryburlesque for proofing work.

On the tenth of June, your agent calls you confirming that you had won the bidding for the house and that you and Dirk have been scheduled to sign the deed. This news makes you shriek while Dirk is trying to take a nap, which starts a very small spat and ends in make-up fondling. The signing process is easy and actually quite hilarious, because Dirk literally brings a suitcase full of cash money to pay for the house in full on the spot. The agent isn’t even sure if Dirk is allowed to do this, ends up having to call his superior, then finally hands over the documents stating that the two of you own the house. Together.

The moving out process is long and grueling. Dirk refuses to let you lift anything heavier than a loaf of bread since your usual peppy gait has become a full-on waddle and you can no longer see your toes. This brings out a lot of grumpiness and pouting, so your father and you bake together in the kitchen while Dirk, Jake, and Roxy pack your things.

Of course, just your luck, Jake finds your baby blue vibrating dildo (with clit-stimulating butterfly attachment) and comes galumphing down the staircase waving it around like a maniac. Your dad faints, you scream, Roxy just laughs, and Dirk furiously snatches it out of Jake’s hands and claims that only he is allowed to use it on you. And the process begins anew, with your father fainting a second time in a puddle of cake batter. You shriek at the whole lot of them and throw the dildo at Dirk and Jake’s retreating backsides as they run back upstairs.

Your father weakly asks you ‘why Jane, why?’ and you have to calmly explain to him that you and Dirk have sex and sex makes babies, hence your pregnancy, to which he responds by looking at you as if his whole life is ruined. He mutters something about storks and spends the rest of the day on the porch smoking his pipe.

By the time the cake is ready, most of your things are packed up in boxes and put in the living room to prepare for the U-Haul truck that’s coming in tomorrow. When your dad comes back inside to see all of your belongings packed away he starts sobbing hysterically and clinging to you while chanting ‘ _I’m not ready!_ ’. You end up having to remind him that your new home will be no more than a ten minute’s drive away.

By ten-thirty, everyone is in the living room eating your cake with delight, not a single word coming from their mouths as they focus on chewing. Afterwards, you allow Jake and Roxy to hold your belly and feel the baby kicking. They respond with absolute delight and yank Dirk over so he can feel, too. But of course, like always, the baby stops kicking completely whenever Dirk is within a five foot radius from her. It’s uncanny and you feel sorry for Dirk, who is getting very curious and _very_ frustrated.

That night you sleep on your mattress one last time in your stripped-mostly-bare room. Only the essentials remain, including your bed, a lamp, and your dresser. This leaves room for Jake and Roxy, who have set up sleeping bags on the floor while you and Dirk sleep together on the bed. You’re very much aware that they’re awake and trying to listen for ‘sounds’ coming from you and Dirk, because Jake is very obviously fake-snoring. You and Dirk end up pranking them by making pretend sex noises and making the next morning very awkward for them.

By noon that day, both yours and Dirk’s belongings (admittedly, not a lot) are taken to your new home. Dave and Rose even come to visit. You and Rose share a tense moment, but when Dirk slips his arm around your shoulder and squeezes while giving Rose a pointed look, she nods and smiles before bringing you both in for a hug. After that, the unpacking process doesn’t take long at all, since you made Dirk invest in a series of large toolboxes that he stores in his claimed ‘work room’ in the basement.  He claims that the only reason things are moving faster is because of the amount of people working, but you know better.

By five, everyone is exhausted and sitting around in a circle in your bare living room, which still needs to be furnished. You and Dirk serve them iced tea and cupcakes as a thank you for their help. As a surprise, everyone presents you with a housewarming gift. Rose and Dave simply hand you pictures of furniture that they have already bought for you. From Rose, you get a king-size canopy bed frame and a brand new, adjustable memory foam mattress fit for royalty. From Dave, a huge, super soft corner-couch. Roxy brings in a teak wine rack from her car, and Jake gifts you with a floor vase that had been hand-crafted and painted by African natives when he went on his tour of Africa for his new Discovery Channel special. Dad, looking somewhat embarrassed and humble, gifts you with his prized painting of a single blue lily that your mother had painted long ago. It’s framed and just a tad rough around the edges. By far, this gift means the most to you, so you hold your father for a long time before proudly bringing it to the ‘nursery’, where you plan to hang it over the baby’s crib when it is purchased.

With that, everyone bids you farewell with hugs and kisses alike. Your father is last to leave, hugging you the longest. He even hugs Dirk, who looks surprised before embracing the older man back. You half expect that he will be back by morning, insisting that he make you breakfast.

What you don’t expect is the sheer silence that follows after your father’s departure. You stand by the front door for a long time before slowly turning around to see Dirk looking just as uncomfortable as you feel. The man fidgets, actually _fidgets_ , looking like he’s itching to put on his shades. They’re upstairs, in the master bedroom.

This shouldn’t be so awkward. You’ve been alone with Dirk before, right? Of course. So why are you shivering, and why are your cheeks heating up?

“This is a very big house,” you comment. “Kind of… empty.”

“Once we actually have furniture, it’ll feel more homely,” Dirk says. His voice echoes and he wrings his hands a little. Neither of you want to address the elephant in the room. This house belongs to you just as much as it belongs to Dirk. Both of you signed the deed to the house. Legally, you own half of it. It’s just technical and legal mumbo-jumbo, but the whole thing has you jittery and nervous as a newlywed. _This is cohabitating_ , you think to yourself.

“Right. Um… Dad said he brought an air mattress?” you ask. Dirk stares for a moment before snapping his fingers and nodding. He heads up the staircase and you tag along, cupping your belly in one hand to support it as you huff and puff your way up the stairs. You and Dirk go to the designated master bedroom (with a walk-in closet, you are proud to say), where the queen-sized air mattress lays spread out on the floor beside its electric pump.

“I hope this is comfortable enough for you. I can sleep on the floor if you’d like,” Dirk says, raising his voice as he flips on the machine and the mattress starts to fill with air.

“Don’t be ridiculous! Look, all we have to do is lay a sheet down on top so we’re not right on top of the vinyl. It’ll be good enough to last us the night,” you say. You swallow and go to the closet, where you had stored all of the sheets and pillows you and Dirk own. Luckily, Dirk owns a _lot_.

“Hey, don’t be lifting all th-” Dirk begins as you turn around. All of a sudden he’s right there in front of you while you have a pile of sheets and pillows in your arms. It startles you so much that you yelp and all of the sheets tumble out of your grasp and flutter to the floor between the two of you. He swallows while you flush bright red and fiddle with the skirt of your dress. Your heart is beating so hard that you’re sure he can hear it. You watch as he grabs the blankets and tosses them haphazardly at the bed before coming forward and touching your shoulder. His thumb slips under the strap of your sun dress and you just… _breathe_ for what seems like the first time tonight as he finally, finally touches you. You move to him immediately, clutching his shirt in your hands and quivering as he toys with the zipper on the back of your dress before slowly pulling it down to the bottom.

“Welcome home,” he says in a smooth, purr-like voice, making you bite your lip. He slips his arms around your body, swaying slowly against you and lowering his hands until they rest on your rump and knead in earnest. You pant just once and tip your head back, exposing sensitive flesh for him to suckle and lick while he removes your clothes. The two of you pause so he can pull your dress over your head and toss it aside while you pull his shirt off before getting right back to what you were doing before. Your belly rubs up against his lower abdomen while the two of you move, kissing each other’s necks and moaning softly into each other’s ears. Somewhere in the house, Dave Jr. is blabbing and meowing but you don’t care right now. Instead you find it harder and harder to keep yourself from kissing Dirk’s lips. You grow agonizingly closer with every open-mouthed kiss left on both of your necks and jaws. So _close_ -

Just as he unhooks your bra strap and lets your breasts loose, there’s movement and suddenly Dirk yells out loud and jumps away from you like you’re on fire. His hands are on his crotch. You yelp and cover up your indecency.

“Strider! What in the name of bloody hell has gotten into you?” you ask loudly.

“I think the baby kicked me in the dick!” he cries. He’s genuinely distressed by this. You just squint in confusion.

“…What?”

“I think the baby kicked me in the dick!”

“That’s absolutely ridiculous!” you say, hands on your hips. You don’t even care about the nudity of your bosoms at the moment when Dirk is acting so foolish. “I don’t believe you.”

“Jane, I swear to God that the baby just kicked me right in the crotch.”

“Then why on earth aren’t you being all dramatic and rolling around on the floor in pain?”

“It wasn’t a strong kick, alright?”

You sigh before shaking your head, smirking, and bursting into laughter.

“Gosh, you’re such a card,” you say. Your thumbs toy at the waistband of your panties. “Mm, now how about you finish what you started?”

With his interest renewed, Dirk grins and steps forward, his fingers coming down to tease you through your panties. You moan softly and the two of you stumble back to the air mattress, where you fall over. As Dirk’s pants and boxers and your panties go flying to unknown corners of the darkened room, the two of you giggle and burrow down in the blanket pile for a good romp-

There’s another flutter and a kick and Dirk yells out again. The desk lamp is turned on and you just groan in frustration as you lie there on your back with your legs spread and your heat pulsing.

“Diiiirk, some other time. Please…” you beg. Dirk worries his lips between his teeth and gazes down at your naked form.

“Just… wait, this is the first time I’m feeling this ever,” he says. While you whine and grumble at him, he slides his hands over your belly, caressing the taut, naked skin and waiting for something to happen. It takes a long, agonizing five minutes before the baby finally flutters and presses up against your skin. Dirk watches in awe as the skin lifts where the baby presses her feet. He runs his hand over what you can only assume is her heel of her tiny foot. It disappears and reappears a moment later.

“Dirk please,” you whisper. Dirk swallows and looks down at your bouncing, wriggling belly.

“While she’s awake?” he asks. You groan long and loud, covering your eyes.

“It’s _fine_ , Strider! Please! She’s pressing up against…!”

“She’s right next to your g-spot?” Dirk questions in horror, physically cringing away. “Is she going to feel my dick?”

You bellow incoherently in frustration and kick him in the chest, forcing him to tumble right out of bed.

“Gosh, for a genius you sure are stupid sometimes!” you snap at him. “I know this is all exciting for you but-”

You stop in your tracks and furrow your brows in thought.

“Wait… why aren’t you getting off on this?” you ask in a scolding tone. “And here I thought something like this would be sexy to you!”

“It is!” Dirk exclaims from the floor. He points to his half-mast erection before looking up at you again. His straight face betrays the inflection in his voice. “But that’s my fucking _daughter_ in there, and I’m having a battle of what’s sexy and what isn’t. I mean, fuck, your figure is just… I want you more than anything but the baby is awake and I don’t want to feel like I’ve violated my own daughter.”

“ _Dirk_ ,” you snarl. Just as Dirk is about to sit up, you slide out of bed and shove him back down onto the floor. He watches and obediently stays still as you straddle his lap and keep his chest pinned down with one firm hand on his sternum. “You and I are going to make love this instant and you are going to like it!”

“Yes ma’am,” Dirk breathes, bucking upwards slightly. The dominance you’re exhibiting seems to be working, because his cock twitches and hardens against your mound. The tip of his dick rubs against the underside of your belly.

“I have had it with all of your blasted fooling around,” you hiss. You grab the belt from his nearby discarded pants and snap it above his head, making him groan. “I suppose I’ll just have to take matters into my own hands.”

You clumsily tie the belt around his wrists, but you don’t do it very well because of the stiff material. You’re fairly certain Dirk could get out of it if he tried, but if he can, he ignores it and growls. You raise your hips and hover over him.

“Put it in,” you demand. He nods and reaches down with his bound hands to carefully align himself with your hole.

“There’s no condom,” he warns. You quite suddenly thrust yourself downwards and impale yourself on him, tearing a cry from both of you.

“I don’t care,” you pant. You brace yourself on his chest and begin to move, alternating between heavy grinding and bouncing. The added weight of your belly pushes you down faster and harder. Sweat runs in rivulets down your flexing thighs and Dirk just looks like he’s in paradise, staring sightlessly up at the ceiling while his arms lie limp above his head.

“Fuck yes,” Dirk hisses, his eyes sliding shut. Quite suddenly, you slap his cheek and his eyes snap open again. You grab his cheeks with one hand and squeeze.

“Don’t you dare cum before me,” you snarl. “Don’t you _dare_.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he pants. He grits his teeth as if trying to hold back and you run your thumbs over his nipples and pinch them. The whimper that comes from his mouth makes you grin.

“Feels good?” you breathe. You give a particularly hard grind against him and he barks out a curse word and rolls his eyes back.

“Fuuuu-fu _huck_ , yes!”

“Dirk,” you whine. Your legs are getting tired but, _god_ , you are just so close. “I need-”

Dirk wrestles himself out of his binds and reaches out to grab your hips. He holds you steady, gains leverage by bending his knees and digging his heels into the floor, and begins to thrust up into you with earnest. His skin slaps loudly and wetly against yours as you throw your head back in ecstasy. You chant his name and release a series of high pitched moans, then you have to bite your lip to keep from screaming as you reach down to rub furiously at your clit. You cum with surprising force, rippling hard around Strider and clamping down on him like a vice grip. Dirk thrusts inside as deep as possible and spills a few short pumps later. You don’t feel the heat of his seed until his flaccid, soaked cock flops out of you and is followed by a slow trickle of sticky white.

“Ahhh,” you sigh, a blissed-out smile on your face. You slump a bit and grin dazedly down at Dirk, who seems to be fighting to keep awake. You caress his cheek. “Good boy.”

Dirk groans softly, his dick giving a little twitch against your mound. Shivering, the two of you disentangle yourselves from each other and help each other to your feet.

“Naked,” Dirk mumbles while the two of you spread a sheet out over the top of the air mattress. He blinks so slowly that you think he’s asleep on his feet a few times before you finally get frustrated and shove Dirk onto the bed. He’s snoring before he hits the pillow. While he sleeps, you gather up the rest of the blankets and pillows and just throw them on the bed for use if they’re needed. For now, you climb into bed stark naked, allowing the fan blowing in the room to gently cool you down. Dirk magnetizes to you, of course, and before long the two of you are all wrapped up in each other while the moonlight comes in through your new windows of your new house.

Between you, the baby slumbers as well, giving the occasional nudge or flutter against Dirk’s stomach. 


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter 20 aka the chapter that made me cry while writing it
> 
> Special thanks to cherryburlesque for proofing work.

Dirk is an absolutely terrible companion when it comes to shopping. It’s not that he’s apathetic or impossible to pull out of the tool aisle at Home Depot, it’s that he’s way too enthusiastic. It turns out both of you want to be in charge, both of you want to hold the color swatches, both of you want different tiles for the bathroom.

It’s downright infuriating.

“We are not getting bathroom tiles with _roosters_ and _cats_ on them!”

“I like them. It represents that I like both cock and pussy.”

“The answer is no!”

An employee approaches to ask if the two of you need help and Dirk calmly answers ‘no’ while you snap ‘yes!’. You glower at Dirk while the employee quickly shuffles away to avoid the couple on a rampage.

“I just want _white_ tiles for the walls, Dirk. You already got your orange tile floor,” you sigh. “I don’t want to make an ironic show out of everything.”

The corners of Dirk’s lips pull down into a frown as he squints at you from behind his shades. He crosses his arms and you try not to notice how strong and toned they look when he wears his black tank-top.

“White tiles are dull as fuck. Do you seriously want to be the uncool and normal parents of our totally rad Strider-Crocker kid?”

“Um, yes!” you exclaim. You put your hands on your hips. “There is absolutely nothing ‘cool’ about using bathroom tiles to represent your gross euphemisms! Do you honestly want to expose our daughter to that sort of explicit material at a young age?”

“We can tell her when she’s older.”

You groan out loud and bury your face in your hands.

“If this is about the neon orange shower curtain, I’m going to strangle you.”

Dirk just looks at you with a straight face, but his eyes are beaming behind his shades. You can just feel it. You roll your eyes.

“Diiiirk,” you whine.

“Either we get the shower curtain or we get the cock-and-pussy tiles,” Dirk says. “Your move, Crocker.”

You pout and stamp your foot a little.

“…Can we at least get the shower curtain with the orange seashells instead of the really bright solid orange one?” you ask. You come in closer and stick out your bottom lip, one hand rising to splay over his chest. “Please?”

Dirk pinches his lips together.

“You drive a hard bargain,” he says. “Fine. Seashells it is.”

You bounce on the balls of your feet and stand up on tiptoes to kiss Dirk’s cheek.

“Okay! So the bathroom renovation plans are complete,” you say. “We’ll have the old claw-foot tub taken out to be replaced with a full shower-bath combination stall. No glass shower-doors or see-through curtains because the poor baby can’t _stand_ the thought of being spied on while taking a legendary shower.”

“I appreciate my private time away from everything,” Dirk says defensively. You giggle and rub his arm before slowly reaching down to take his hand while you continue to read off your list. He interlaces your fingers.

“We’ll have your seashell curtain and a _muted_ orange tile floor. Extra emphasis on the ‘muted’. With that, a normal porcelain toilet with your super special toilet lid with the goldfish decorations. That’s going to match beautifully with the shower curtains. The walls will also be white micro-tile. And to make sure there isn’t too much orange, a nice set of snow white bath rugs will complete the color scheme. It’ll go nicely with the orangeness, hoohoo,” you continue. Dirk hums and reads over your shoulder.

“It sounds fucking sweet,” Dirk says. “It’d be even more awesome if you would let me do neon orange tiles. We’d have a creamsicle themed bathroom.”

“Absolutely not. It’ll burn our eyes! I like the gentle orange color we chose. It looks like a pumpkin cake, hehe. We could also put up some wall decorations to make it less… completely white. Alright, focus. Oh yes, and the extended bathroom counter. Double-sink and an extra wide mirror for all of our hair styling needs,” you say. You smile over your shoulder at Dirk and he squeezes your hand.

“I’m going to marry the shit out of you. And then raise the fuck out of our kid. That’s how much I appreciate you.”

“Extra cabinet space for all of your hair products,” you continue and he moans. You laugh. “Alright! I think that’s it for the master bathroom. For the other bathrooms, single shower stalls and white tiles everywhere, yes?”

“Affirmative.”

“Okay, then I believe we have completed renovation plans.”

“What’s next?”

“Well, I’ve got yard work written on here. And remember, the deck in the back yard is pretty old and creaky. We could have a team come tear it down and replace it with some new, sturdier wood. Oh, and one of those retractable awnings so we can sit outside even if it’s raining!”

“You’re killing me, woman. My wallet is crying.”

You flush bright red.

“Oh! I’m sorry, I just assumed-”

“I’m kidding. We can get an in-ground pool if you want. A hot tub. A thousand backyard decks.”

You huff and flick his nose.

“I was honestly worried there! Don’t be such an arse and tease me about money! You know it really bakes my biscuit.”

“I’ll show you what else I’m going to do to your biscuit.”

You whine and push Dirk away as he tries to get frisky with you in public. He just chuckles and crosses his arms again.

“ _Anyway_ ,” you say firmly as you clear your throat. “Where was I? Oh yes. I’d also like to have some elevated flowerbeds at the front of the house so I can look at the flowers from the kitchen window. And a hummingbird feeder!”

“Done and done,” Dirk says. You frown.

“Dirk, don’t you have anything? You were so eager about the bathroom but now you’re being completely pliant about the yard. What are you hiding, mister?” you say suspiciously. Dirk’s shades glint.

“You caught me. Fine. You can have anything you want when it comes to the lawn, but only if you allow me two simple things.”

You squint.

“Dirk…”

“I want fancy Santas. Santa lawn gnomes. At least four of them. No, five. And I want them to be so unbelievably shitty that joggers who pass our house literally ollie right on out of our neighborhood.”

You consider this for a long time.

“…And your other request?”

Dirk smirks and proudly juts out his chest.

“I want a welcome mat at our doorstep that says ‘Pussy Destroyer’ on it.”

“No.”

“’Dirk Strider the dick rider’?”

“No.”

“’Go away’?”

“No.”

“Can it say ‘Home is where the heart is’, but it has to be super sarcastic. As in, ‘Home is where the HEART is’. Actually, I want it in Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff text. Dave’ll flip his shit. Like this,” Dirk says. He takes your notepad and writes something down before showing it to you. It’s a sketch of the mat with the famous ‘Sweet Bro’ face on the corner (the same design as Dirk’s horrendous tattoo you found the other day; you thought it had been just a birth mark since it’s so small). The words read:

home is were hte HEART………is

In tiny, tiny letters, the Sweet Bro face in the corner is saying ‘incredible’. You look up skeptically at Dirk, the father of your daughter. He shrugs.

“It’s your choice, babe.”

“And this is it? I get anything I want in return?”

“Anything you want.”

You think.

“I want a wooden swing for our daughter to play on hanging from the big oak tree in the front yard.”

“Deal.”

“I want a nice little shed to keep our gardening supplies in so we can use the garage solely for the car.”

“Deal.”

“I want a riding lawn mower so it’s easier to mow the lawn.”

“Deal.”

“I want a cobblestone path from the porch to the driveway. And I want it to be lined with those little garden lights. During Halloween we can put jack-o-lanterns there, too.”

“Deal, deal, deal.”

“And one last thing.”

“Yes?”

“I want to have a cute mailbox that we paint ourselves, and I want to paint our hands and put it on the mailbox like in the movie _Up_. And when the baby is born I want her hand on the mailbox, too.”

Dirk smiles.

“Babe, I’m going to put my hands all _over_ that mailbox. And then I’m going to seal that shit up so it doesn’t fade.”

“Then I guess we have a deal. All that for your weird Santas and your ridiculous doormat. I can deal with that,” you say. Dirk nods in approval.

“Then I believe it’s settled.”

“Yes, but now we have to agree on furniture.”

Dirk groans. 

* * *

 

The day flies by with you and Dirk stopping by numerous furniture stores and Lowes and another Home Depot and Walmart and basically every superstore you can think of. Slowly, you’re crossing off everything on your list. Dave helps out by sending his four bodyguards to help with the moving process (Hal ‘Hearts’ Boxcars, Steve ‘Spades’ Slick, Doug ‘Diamonds’ Droog, and Chester ‘Clubs’ Deuce), who load up furniture in their vans and trucks to haul them back to the house.

By the time you’re finished with the basic furnishings of your new home, it’s ten o’clock, your feet are sore, your ankles (and nipples, but nobody needs to know that) are swollen, and you’re starving. Dirk doesn’t try negotiating his way into getting ridiculous things and is instead very quiet and gentle with you to avoid getting you angry. He drives you home and carries you to the couch waiting in the front lawn, then drapes his jacket over your body. You play Angry Birds on Dirk’s iPhone while Dirk and Dave’s bodyguards carry the furniture inside and place it in the designated spots. They even carry the couch inside with you still on it and you laugh and giggle the whole way.

You try to help them with assembling the bed frame, but Dirk insists that you not because he doesn’t want you trying to lift heavy things. One furious look has him reluctantly agreeing to allow you to help by handing them the screws and the drapes of the canopy. You wish you could do more, but your doctor _did_ specifically warn you about heavy lifting. And you’re pretty tired!

Within forty-five minutes the bed is assembled and you watch while the bodyguards put the box spring and memory foam mattress on the bed. Together, you and Dirk make the bed with Dirk’s jet black satin sheets (you had mentioned that you liked satin so of course Dirk had gone the whole nine yards) and fluff up the pillows you had bought today. Dirk tips the bodyguards handsomely and they leave after shaking his hand and giving you a crushing hug.

You and Dirk sleep like rocks, snoring loudly and entangling yourselves in each other’s arms. 

* * *

 

Day two of shopping is nowhere near as bad as the first. Both you and Dirk are cheerful because the bathroom renovations are being done while the two of you are out shopping, meaning neither of you have to be annoyed by loud noises. Dirk is very flexible today, but only on the terms that he gets to decorate his personal study however he wants. You hereby give him permission to do whatever he bloody well pleases in his personal rooms, which include the downstairs study and the basement. You, meanwhile, have full ownership of the entire kitchen, bedrooms, living room, and… well, pretty much everything else. Dirk readily agrees and trusts you as an interior decorator, which is flattering to say the least.

However, there is one room the two of you seem to be avoiding. The upstairs guest bedroom. The nursery. You’re unsure if Dirk’s just shy to ask about it or if it’s what he wants to do last. You keep it out of your mind while you get everything else on the list, piling two shopping carts high with picture frames, lamps, bathroom supplies, pots, pans, silverware, dishes, kitchen utensils, towels, wicker hampers and wastebaskets, and more. After that, the two of you stop by Seers to purchase large appliances, such as a full modern kitchen set to replace the old one in your current kitchen, a two-in-one washer and dryer, and a brand new air conditioning unit. Best Buy is next, which has Dirk downright bouncing off the walls. The two of you purchase a flat screen television to put over the fireplace in the living room, then a smaller television to put on top of the dresser in the bedroom, and finally a miniature television that Dirk plans to hang up in the kitchen so you can watch movies while you cook. A home phone is also bought just for the purpose of having it just in case, and finally Dirk buys a desktop computer to have for any gaming needs either of you have. He’s such a wonderful man.

The two of you finish at five o’clock with all of your new things. The Seers employees arrive several hours later (Dirk bribed them to come as soon as possible with large sums of money) and help the two of you install the new appliances and the air conditioning. The bathrooms aren’t finished being renovated yet, but the carpeting in the basement has finally been replaced and several construction workers are currently building your flowerbeds with wood Dirk had generously supplied.

The noise in the house finally dies down around eight, leaving both you and Dirk absolutely exhausted and in no mood to do anything special for dinner. The two of you order a couple pizzas and eat dinner right in the living room while you watch television.

“We’re almost finished,” you say tiredly when you’re stuffed with pizza and resting against Dirk. He’s got your legs in his lap and a blanket around both of you so you both can cuddle.

“Mmm,” Dirk hums. “Yeah. Impressive, huh? We got that shit done so fast. Lightning fast. Lightning fucking McQueen. We’ve got mad skills.”

“Mad skills, indeed,” you say. You laugh as Dirk offers up his fist and you bump it with yours. The baby gives a little nudge and Dirk feels it, smiling as he rests his hand on your belly.

“It feels like just last week you were complaining that you weren’t showing yet. How long has it even been?”

“It’s Wednesday… June 12th, correct?” you ask. Dirk nods. You count the weeks back to the day the baby was conceived and whistle. “Seven months.”

“We’re in the home stretch, huh?” Dirk asks softly. You smile and nod while he strokes your very swollen belly and thinks silently. You watch T.V. before you lose interest and look up at Dirk. He’s looking very tired and much older than he actually is, but he doesn’t look unhappy. In fact, he looks very fatherly at this very moment. That gives you an idea.

“Hey Dirk?” you ask in a singsong voice. Dirk arches a brow at you. “Do you know what this Sunday is?”

“Uh… you’re not going to make us go to church, are you?”

You give a big roll of your eyes.

“No, don’t be ridiculous! No… this Sunday is Father’s Day.”

Dirk thinks for a long time about this, his face a blank slate.

“…Do I even qualify for that?”

“Of course! I think she knows you’re her father,” you say sweetly. You put your hand over Dirk’s on your belly. “She’s saying ‘this is my daddy and I love him and want him to have the best Father’s Day ever!’”

“That is highly unlikely, because a typical baby doesn’t start talking until long after it is born.”

You stick your tongue out at Dirk before he gently takes your legs and lifts them off of him. Confused, you watch him slip off the couch and get on the floor, kneeling in front of you in the glow of the television.

“What are you doing?” you ask.

“Strider babies are geniuses by default, and you said her hearing is pretty much fully developed now. So I’m just… I’m giving her some early speaking lessons,” he says. He looks kind of… embarrassed? You stare down at him in slight surprise as he lifts the front of your shirt and cups your belly in his hands. When the baby presses up against you, he rubs his thumb over the small protrusion and smiles when the baby kicks again in the same spot. “Hey there, peanut.”

You choke out a giggle and shift on the couch to give Dirk better access.

“Hey, li’l… li’l woman, I guess? It doesn’t ring very well. Li’l peanut? That works better. I hope you can hear me in there, because I’m only going to say this once,” Dirk says sternly. You smile and gently stroke his hair. “First of all, you make Mommy look like a fine piece of ass, so keep that up, squirt. Feel free to chillax in there as long as you want. But don’t kick the shit out of her like you do in the morning, because she tends to take it out on me.”

You smack him upside the head.

“Mommy just hit me, but between you and me, she knows I’m right,” Dirk whispers. You chortle while he leans in and presses a kiss to the baby’s heel, which presses against your taut skin. “But even though I said that I want you to know that I’m actually pretty stoked to see you. See if you inherited the ol’ Strider shnauz.”

Dirk taps his nose.

“And I’m going to be real with you, li’l peanut, because I’m serious as a fucking heart attack right now,” Dirk says. He thumbs the sides of your belly and leans his head forward to press his forehead to it. Taking a deep breath, he opens his mouth to talk when she kicks him in the forehead and makes him laugh. “Yeah, you’re straight up pickin’ up what I’m puttin’ down. You’re a smart little fuck, aren’t you?”

Dirk nuzzles against you and presses a kiss to the peak of the bump.

“I want to see you so bad,” Dirk admits softly. Your breath hitches. “And I want to hold you in my arms and rock you when you cry. I want to protect you. It took me way too long to figure that shit out, peanut. I hope you don’t hold it against me. I’m just kind of a big fucking coward sometimes. A big wanker, as Mommy likes to say.”

“Dirk,” you breathe. Your voice breaks as a rock forms in your throat.

“I’m sorry,” he continues, but he’s not talking to you. He clutches your stomach in his hands. “I’m sorry I wanted you gone and I’m sorry I almost left Mommy over this. I’m sorry I ran away after our big fight and didn’t show my fucking face to Mommy for weeks when I should’ve been at her door begging forgiveness from day one. I’m sorry I ever entertained the thought of terminating you. I’m sorry I ever fucking thought that I wouldn’t be able to love you. I’m sorry your daddy is a calculator. I’m sorry that you have me as your daddy.”

Dirk pulls away and you realize he has tears in his eyes. He presses the heel of his hand into his eye and grits his teeth in a half-smile.

“Happy _fucking_ Father’s Day to me, huh?”

You slap your hand over your mouth to cover up your sob while Dirk looks sadly up at you. He looks back down at your belly and rubs the sides.

“And I’m especially sorry that I keep making Mommy cry.”

Dirk swallows and sighs shakily.

“I’m going to fix that, li’l peanut, because I love you so much and I want to make this work. I’m scared shitless and I know I’m going to keep making mistakes that are going to make Mommy cry and it’s going to make you sad. I’m going to keep fucking up and I’m always just going to be sorry for it. But I’m going to try to fix everything I’ve fucked up and I’m not going to rest until you’re the happiest little baby in the world. I promise. I promise I will not destroy Mommy’s heart, or yours. Strider-patented promise, baby.”

“I t-told you that you were going to love her,” you weep, scrubbing at the tears that won’t stop cascading down your face. You sniffle loudly. “Come here.”

You pull Dirk up and he wordlessly embraces you. He doesn’t make a single sound but you can feel a warm wetness spreading on your shoulder. Rubbing his back, you hush him and rock him back and forth until he relaxes against you and slumps. When you pull away again, you give him a tearful smile and giggle at him when he just sniffs at you in response.

“Gosh, I never thought you could be so sentimental,” you say, thumbing his tears away.

“And I never thought I was gonna be a father, but here we are.”


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to cherryburlesque for proofing work.

“HAPPY FATHER’S DAY!”

You awaken with a scream as the door to your bedroom bursts open. Scrambling to cover your naked body, you accidentally yank the covers off of Dirk, who is also naked and sporting morning wood.

Family and friends alike come pouring into your room with trays of breakfast, and the first thing they see is you with mussed-up, morning-after hair (at midnight you had given Dirk his early Father’s Day ‘gift’) and Dirk with a full-on boner. Your father faints, Rose utters ‘oh my!’ and smiles, Jake stares, and Roxy and Dave race each other to see who can slap Dirk in the dick first. Dave wins and Dirk awakens with a yell before promptly kicking Dave in the face.

“J-J-J-Just give us a minute!” you cry, wrapping yourself up in the sheet and shoving everyone out of the room.

“So does this mean I’m not getting that wake-up blowjob you promised last night?” Dirk asks blearily. You glare at him and he puts his hands up in surrender.

“Get dressed! Everyone’s here, apparently to surprise you for Father’s Day!” you grump, bustling around and going to the dresser. You chuck clothes at Dirk and he tiredly pulls them on, stumbling slightly. You let your sheet drop and shimmy into your panties and a maternity bra.

“I just wanted morning sex for Father’s Day, not a parade,” Dirk grumbles. “Let’s just kick everyone out and fuck.”

“You’re not getting _any_ if you don’t get your butt moving!” you snap. You stop in front of your mirror and run a brush quickly through your hair. Dirk sulks (he’s got a blank expression actually but you know enough about him to know that he’s moping like a child) while he pulls on his sweatpants.

“Later?” he asks. You groan and roll your eyes.

“Yes, Dirk. Later I’m going to suck you dry,” you say just as your door opens. Your dad pokes his head in just in time to hear what you said and just silently shuts the door again. A second later you hear a loud thumping sound as your dad falls down a couple steps on the staircase. You tense up until you hear Dave laughing like a maniac and screaming ‘I warned you about the stairs, bro’ at the top of his lungs.

Dirk shrugs and grabs Li’l Cal from the dresser and, tucking him under his arm, heads out of the bedroom with you right behind him. You put on your best cheerful face and run into the living room to greet everyone with big hugs.

“It looks splendid in here, pumpkin!” Dad praises. He’s rubbing his bum because of the fall, but he looks okay otherwise. “I’m amazed you got this done so quickly!”

“We had a ton of help,” you say when you pull away, still holding Dad by the elbows. “Thank you so much for stopping by! And making breakfast!”

“Well duh! We all wanted to congratulate the daddy-to-be,” Roxy says. “I just thought you guys would’ve waited until later tonight to celebrate.”

She gives a big, dramatic wink as your dad clears his throat and looks around awkwardly.

“It looks like you have everything in order, hm?” Dad asks while you and Dirk sit on the couch together to eat some of the breakfast that had been prepared for you. You look up and Dad looks… sad.

“What’s wrong?” you ask.

“It’s hard to feel like a father when your baby girl doesn’t need your fatherly support anymore,” Dad says. Literally everyone cries ‘aww’ (with varying levels of sincerity) and flings themselves at Dad, who wavers under all the hugs he’s receiving.

“Happy Father’s Day, Daddy,” you say, giving your dad a big kiss on the cheek. Roxy daringly hops up and kisses Dad full on the lips, which has him adjusting his collar and grinning a bit. Rose smacks Roxy upside the head, but Roxy looks quite pleased with her freshly smeared black lipstick.

Dad, looking much happier, helps you clean up after breakfast before he, Dave, and Rose step out into the front lawn for a smoke. This leaves you, Jake, Roxy, and Dirk inside, where Roxy teases you about this morning and Jake gets overly curious about what exactly you and Dirk did the night before until you shut him up with a glare.

“Devilfucking dickens, Jane! You’ve definitely gotten even bigger since I last saw you!” Jake says. You smile and pat your tummy.

“You think so? It sure feels like it. Everything is getting all big and fat. Especially my tushy,” you giggle, wiggling your butt. Roxy swats your bum and you yelp. You jump away only for Dirk to also swat your butt, then back away a third time only for Jake to smack it, too. You stomp your foot. “Stop spanking me!”

“That’s not what you said last night,” Dirk purrs smoothly. You flush bright red. Roxy laughs and Jake chuckles as he scratches the stubble on his chin.

“Hmph.”

“Dirk, you’re getting a bit of chub, too,” Roxy comments. She puts her hands on her hips and scans Dirk. Raising a brow, Dirk lifts the front of his shirt and looks down at his body. Sure enough, he has filled out quite a bit and his ribs aren’t so prominent anymore.

“The Missus has been feeding me good. Fattening me up proper,” Dirk says with his forced Texan accent. “Eggs and bacon for breakfast, nice big heaping plates of her crazy Korean dishes for lunch, and casseroles and pastas and steaks for dinner. With her baking as well for snacks and desserts. Yep, I am one happy man.”

As Dirk pats his belly, Jake and Roxy drool. You titter, flattered.

“You two are welcome to come over anytime you’d like a meal!” you say, reaching out to snuggle your two friends. “We can all be big fatties together.”

“Yaaay!” Roxy cries. She jumps around with you and you laugh. When she pulls away she puts her hands on her hips. “So what are you two crazy kids planning to do today? Besides, you know, ‘consummating’ the holiday?”

“Anything Dirk likes, I think,” you say. You gently sway and bump against him. He manipulates Li’l Cal and makes him pap your cheek. “Do you have anything in mind?”

“Yes actually,” Dirk says. “But I’m afraid I can’t tell the others what it is. No, it’s nothing of sexual nature, as we are saving that for later. Rather it is something personal for me that means a lot to me, especially today.”

The three of you look over at Dirk, surprised.

“What?”

“I didn’t expect you to be so sincere,” you say. There’s a smile on your face.

“Where’s Dirk and what have you done to him?” Roxy asks loudly. “You’re turning him into a human, Jane!”

“I dare say that I like this new you,” Jake says with a sage nod. You frown and look at Dirk, who looks a tad uncomfortable even with his shades on. His straight face may be hard to read for some people, but not to you. You gently slip your arms around his waist and squeeze until he looks down at you and offers you a quirk of his lips. He makes Li’l Cal caress your cheek.

“Are you two a thing yet?” Roxy whines. “I’m like, dying of diabetes here and if you two are still identifying as friends then I’m Sarah Palin. And don’t say fuck buddies either, because that would ruin all of the cute friendfictions I wrote about you two.”

“You’ve been writing fanfictions about us?” you ask incredulously.

“No, dumby, _friend_ fiction. There’s a huuuuge difference. Astronomical difference.”

“I’m sure.”

“To answer your earlier question, Jane and I are not putting labels on who we are. A couple, perhaps, if you wish to call it that, may be a proper term,” Dirk says.

“Pfft. What’s with all your aloofness about labels?” Roxy asks. “Like all this time we all thought you were the biggest gay to ever gay but apparently you’re bi! What exactly is going on, Dirky?”

Dirk shifts a little. He looks uncomfortable again.

“You don’t have to answer that,” you say gently. You look to Roxy exasperatedly. “Rox…”

“No, it’s fine,” Dirk says. “I owe you an explanation, too.”

Now you’re curious and slightly worried.

“I honestly… have never really thought about what I am,” Dirk begins. You pull him over so he can sit on the couch, and Roxy and Jake follow suit while paying rapt attention. “So I just hid under the all-encompassing blanket of ‘I don’t know, queer or something’ instead of manning up and putting a direct stamp on it. Throughout the years I suppose I’ve just faded back and forth between things? Like… let’s talk Kinsey scale. It’s like metronome, sometimes I’d be a two and other times I’d be a five. I’d just keep swinging back and forth. I find women to be very attractive. I’ve actually always been attracted to Jane.”

“Bullshit.” “Malarkey.” “No bloody way!” Roxy, you, and Jake spout at the same time. Dirk nods slowly and looks a little shy all of a sudden.

“In some aspects she is very similar to Jake. And before you get prickly, Jane, I was attracted to you before I was attracted to Jake. Jake, sorry man, but part of the reason I was into you is because you’re basically the male version of Jane. Except _way_ hairier and beefier,” Dirk says. Jake shrugs and offers him a brofist.

“You’re comparing me to one of the two most beautiful, jaw-dropping women in the world, Dirk, I think I’ll manage.”

Jake gives Roxy double pistols and a wink, and she gives him a little smirk. You wonder if they’ve got a thing going on.

“So let me get this straight,” you say, turning your body towards Dirk. “You’re saying that you’ve always kinda sorta had a thing for me.”

“I guess? It’s confusing as fuck because I barely know my own sexuality as it is. Sometimes I want cocks and asses and other times I want tits and pussy. I think the perfect body for me would be someone with both sets. Like, a nice perky rack and both a cock and a pussy.”

“So you’re bi,” Roxy says.

“No,” Dirk says. “I don’t know. I’ve been struggling with this for a long time, so I’ve been trying to push it to the back of my mind. That night we got drunk at that club, I just… all that hetero attraction for Jane came bursting out all at once and I’ve never ached so bad for pussy in all my life. And now that we’re… more than friends, I really don’t ache for anything else. I don’t want to call myself bi if I’m basically a zero on the Kinsey scale now.”

“Maybe it’s because it’s Jane. Like if she had a wiener it wouldn’t matter because it’s Jane,” Roxy points out. Dirk considers this.

“So you’re saying that Jane transcends the definition of my ever-morphing sexuality?”

“You know what I think? Loving Jane is a universal constant,” Roxy says whimsically. “That’s so frickin’ romantic. Like it wouldn’t even matter if you were gay.”

“That’s sexuality erasure,” Dirk points out. Roxy vigorously shakes her head.

“No! Just… you know how sometimes people who are, like, stubbornly straight all their lives? Yeah, and sometimes, not always, they meet somebody super special and it doesn’t even matter if it’s a boy or a girl because it’s just… _them_. I think if your heart wants it, it’ll like… yearn for it. Like, Juliet style. It doesn’t matter the gender because sometimes you just love a person no matter what.”

“That makes so much sense, I’m concerned,” Dirk chuckles lowly. “Are you sober today?”

“Just a itty-bit,” Roxy says. She blushes. “There wasn’t much to drink where I spent the night last night.”

“I _told_ you I could open up that wine if you wa-” Jake begins. Everyone freezes.

“Hel _lo_ , what’s this?” Dirk asks. You, who had been in a trance while Dirk described his universally constant attraction for you, blink and turn slowly to Roxy and Jake. They’re looking sheepish.

“We’ve had a lot of time to hang out,” Roxy admits.

“We have a lot more in common than we originally thought!” Jake says. He swallows. “I um… I asked her to be my girlfriend, um, this morning.”

You scream and flail your arms. Roxy, meanwhile, grabs a throw pillow and shoves her face into it.

“Roxy! When were you going to _tell_ me?” you ask.

“I’m sorry! I assumed you were sorta busy with Dirk so I left you to your lovey-doveyness, and then… well I got kinda lonely one night and I hit up Jake and… we got a little tipsy and then… he kissed me and we um. We did it.”

“On the kitchen table,” Jake adds. Roxy punches him in the shoulder and he laughs his cheerful, oblivious-guy laugh. “And in the shower! And against the door!”

“Yes, yes, we fricked all over his house,” Roxy says a tad impatiently. She nurses her temples. “Jane, do you have anything to drink?”

“No, sorry Roxy,” you say. “But maybe this is for the best?”

Roxy thinks for a moment and looks at Jake, who tousles his hair and gives her an award-winning smile. She sighs.

“Yeah I think being in a relationship will be better enjoyed if my mind is actually around to enjoy it,” Roxy says. “But give me a while. This is a seriously different lifestyle for me.”

“We’ll help you out,” you say.

“I hope you two have been wearing condoms,” Dirk says suddenly. Jake freezes like a deer in headlights and Roxy rolls her eyes.

“I’m on the pill and I’m thinking of getting the ladies tied, anyway,” Roxy says. “Sorry peeps, but the domestic life isn’t for me. Jake wants to take me to Germany to show me some of the crazy liquor they’ve got there. Hehe.”

“So I guess we can be open about it now,” Jake says. He outstretches his hand and Roxy takes it, smiling brightly and leaning in for a kiss. You and Dirk watch as they kiss once, twice, then three times, their hands coming up to cup each other’s faces. The way they seem to crave each other makes you think that they’ve had this coming for a long time, and that maybe there had been another reason Jake had rejected you. Either way, you’re happy for them, but you’re a little jealous that they’re kissing and acting like a couple.

When they’re done, Jake has mussed up hair and Roxy is giggling while they touch foreheads. You reach over and take Dirk’s hand. He squeezes you when you squeeze him. You look over, half expecting him to kiss you, but he’s already opening his mouth to speak again. Trying not to sulk, you slap on a smile.

“Well I’m glad you two idiots finally decided to hook up,” Dirk says. “But Jake, if you hurt her, I’ll personally rip out your jugular. She’s going to be my step-sister, after all.”

“Oh, that’s right!” Jake exclaims. “That’s quite exciting, don’t you think? Now if Roxy and I get married, and you and Jane get married, we’ll all be related through marriage!”

“Isn’t it too early for you to be thinking about marrying me within hours of asking me to be your girlfriend?” Roxy asks teasingly. Jake beams at her.

“To be quite honest with you, I have been harboring feelings for you for some time now! Jake Lalonde has a nice ring to it.”

“Jake,” you sigh. “Typically it’s the women who take the surname.”

Jake blinks.

“But Roxy English doesn’t have a lot of ring to it.”

“I’m fine with Jake being my cute little bottom bitch,” Roxy teases. Jake grins a bit as she comes forward to sit in his lap and lick a stripe up his cheek. “Isn’t that right, Jake?”

“Affirmative!”

“Dirk Crocker,” Dirk mutters. You swallow. “Jane Strider. They both sound good.”

“I think I like the ring of Jane Strider better,” you blurt. Blushing, you look down at your lap and feel Dirk squeezing your hand.

“Mrs. Jane Strider,” he rumbles in his low voice. You exhale shakily and shiver as he whispers it in your ear. By now, Jake and Roxy are looking at you two.

“You two _are_ getting married, right? Since you’re going to keep the baby and all of that parenty stuff,” Roxy says. Dirk looks at you first for answers and you smile over the fact that he’d probably be okay with whatever answer you give if it’s what you want.

“Right now we’re just enjoying being together and slowly building up our relationship. We decided together that we think our daughter deserves parents who are married because they love each other, not because they feel obligated to get married because of the baby,” you explain. Roxy puts a hand over her heart.

“That’s so frickin’ cute I’m gonna die. Jake hold me,” she says. Jake happily complies and snuggles his girlfriend.

“I’m basically onboard with about two-hundred of whatever Jane says. She’s the conductor of this crazy train,” Dirk says. He jerks his thumb at you. “She pretty much gives me purpose in life.”

You blush and lightly smack his leg.

“Enough of that, you ridiculous man.”

Just as you speak, the older adults come back into the house from their long smoke break, smelling faintly of tobacco and looking as if they had had a particularly juicy conversation. They look at you and Dirk as if the two of you are about to propose to each other at that exact moment. Dirk just shrugs and slips an arm around your shoulders before flipping on the television.

“Everyone, before you get comfortable, Rose and I have some shit to lay down,” Dave suddenly announces. Dirk pauses the DVR and all of you turn to look at him and Rose. “We have decided on a date for the wedding.”

“We thought August 27th would be the best date for it. We will be having a very simple, private wedding, as you can imagine. Neither of us want to be pestered by paparazzi, so the church we’ll be using will be completely blocked off and made to look empty. You can thank Mister Strider for this, because of his announcement of our engagement on live television. I will not be wearing a proper wedding dress because of this buffoon’s shenanigans.”

“Rose a million, Dave one,” Dave says. “I finally got you back.”

“You say that as if I mind whether or not I care about the color or the formality of my garments.”

“Oh, you care. I can see it in your eyes. That unironic annoyance. You want it so bad, don’t you?”

“The wedding means nothing, it is the reception that I am eager for,” Rose says. Dave squints.

“We didn’t plan a reception.”

“ _You_ may have not planned a reception. The groom is not invited.”

“Honeybunches…”

“My darling, sweet little Strider.”

Rose tickles Dave under the chin and he growls at her, bringing her in for a fierce, passionate kiss on the lips. Rose chortles against his mouth. You look hopelessly at your dad, who looks back at you. Both Crockers want to be smooched but nobody is willing to supply. You kind of want to smack Dirk for not kissing you.

“I’m only teasing, of course,” Rose murmurs. “I have been planning the reception to be a rather large get-together with some of our friends in Hollywood and Europe. I would love for you all to come, since there will be many celebrities there and they will be more than willing to meet you as long as you don’t try to manhandle them.”

“Of course!” the whole lot of you says, making Rose chuckle softly.

“Wonderful. We will have an array of party favors, of course. The only thing we’re still looking for is for some live, local music. Dave will most likely think it would be ironic to have amateur singers show up for the reception, and I believe it’ll be good to get a deserving band’s name out there. If you could look around, it would be highly appreciated.”

“Doctor Maryam mentioned that her younger sister is in an electric jazz and swing band with a couple of boys who sound like total hipster trash,” Dirk mentions.

“Fucking perfect. Maybe they’ll embarrass themselves in front of all those celebrities,” Dave says. “Nothin’ like takin’ a couple hipsters down a few pegs.”

“Dave, if I’m not mistaken, I believe you are the sole definition of hipster trash.”

“Rose?”

“Hmm?”

“I fucking loathe you.”

“I love you too, my darling.”


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter 22 aka any TAT readers will totally recognize this scene. major callbacks everywhere dang son
> 
> Special thanks to cherryburlesque for proofing work.

“You know what I just realized?”

“Yes, Dirk?”

“We completely missed Mother’s Day.”

You blink and turn to Dirk before laughing.

“That was in May though, I was probably busy with graduation stuff.”

“You were busy and I was absent,” Dirk says. He looks genuinely sad, especially without his shades on. Now that everyone is gone, he has let his guard back down. You pout your lip at him and bring him in to kiss his cheek.

“Aww. It’s alright. I was busy anyway, and barely showing.”

“I’m going to make it up to you. Today isn’t Father’s Day, today is Parent’s Day. And would you like to know what I want to do on this beautiful Sunday afternoon?” he asks. You tilt your head.

“What’s that?”

He takes your hand in his.

“The nursery. I want to shop for the baby today with you.”

“Oh Dirk.”

“Plus I know you’re going to get emotional and you are going to need a big strong man to comfort you.”

Dirk snrrks as you slap his arm.

“Please. If anyone’s going to get emotional it’s going to be you.” 

* * *

 

You’re wrong. The moment you lay your eyes on a big, soft, blue stuffed bunny rabbit, you burst into tears and start crying in the middle of the toy store. A nearby father with a toddler on his hip gives Dirk an understanding nod. Dirk just puts his hands on your shoulders and massages, letting you hold the rabbit while the two of you walk around. You can’t stop crying at all of these baby things. You can’t handle the baby things.

The hanging mobiles have you burying yourself in Dirk’s chest.

“Jane. Jesus Christ,” Dirk just laughs, patting your back and letting you cry while children stare at the grownup crying in the middle of the toy store. When adults see your pregnant belly they instantly put on a sympathetic face and pat Dirk on the shoulder as they pass him. It’s like some sort of inside scoop that you never noticed before becoming pregnant. There’s like an unspoken bond between parents. An unspoken rule; ‘Never leave your emotional pregnant wife-slash-partner unattended in the toy store full of baby things’.

“I just can’t stop thinking about-” you hiccup. Dirk takes your hand and puts it on his chest. His heart is beating extra hard.

“I know exactly what you’re feeling right now,” he says. You sniffle and nod before wiping your tears and strongly going to the hanging mobiles. Dirk comes up behind you and wraps his arms around your shoulders so he can rest his head against yours. “Get the create-your-own kit. I’m going to carve some parts out of wood so we have our own custom made, badass mobile.”

“No cats or roosters,” you whimper, grabbing a create-your-own kit from the shelf and adding it to the growing bundle of baby things in your arms. Dirk walks away from you for a moment and comes back with a cart so you can put the things inside. He pushes it around while you lead, holding on to the front of the cart for leverage.

The baby blankets have you nearly doubling over with heart pangs.

“Jane,” Dirk says gently. “I’m right here.”

“This is so embarrassing,” you moan. You shake as you grab a pink baby blanket with bunnies printed all over them. You nearly start crying again because it matches the stuffed animal _oh my goodness you’re getting emotional over matching baby things._

Dirk puts his head down on the handle of the cart as you cry over the blankets.

The toy store is by far the most painful and Dirk explains that he knew that, which is why he wanted you to do it first and foremost. The two of you end up walking out with a wide array of toys, blankets for naptime _and_ playtime, pacifiers, and a couple create-your-own mobile sets so Dirk can make an amazing big one. You’ve pretty much cried out all your tears and, by the time you enter Baby GAP, you’re much more composed.

Dirk insists on getting overalls for your daughter, which you try to refuse since he’s tall, so your daughter will most likely grow like a weed. He says he doesn’t care if she only wears it for an hour, he wants her to wear a damn pair of overalls. You end up throwing the little baby overalls at his face and you start laughing while he chases you around a bin full of baby socks.

You load up the cart with a whole bunch of things before you see Dirk wandering off to the boy clothes section, where he begins taking things off the shelf. He takes a whole array of sizes, making sure to only grab things that look good. He doesn’t touch the sales bins, he goes for the gold. You look at him in confusion as he fills up an entire, separate shopping cart full of baby clothes for both genders of all sizes, then pays for it all. It’s nearly a thousand dollars for all of it, and the half-full shopping cart with _your_ baby things tips it over the thousand dollar mark. Only when the two of you walk out of the store do you dare ask Dirk what that was all about.

All he says is ‘not everyone can afford this shit’ before promptly going across the street to Goodwill with his goods and coming back with a completely empty cart. He returns the shopping cart in its rightful place and goes on with the day as if nothing just happened.

You’re starting to believe that Dirk has more of a heart than he gives himself credit for.

The day ends up being more romantic than you thought it would be. Something about shopping for something the two of you made together is so deeply intimate that it has you unable to let go of Dirk’s hand for the majority of the day. He still doesn’t kiss you, but sometimes you catch him gazing at you with an expression that makes you feel as if you _have_ been kissed. You realize how badly you want him to kiss you. You almost want to do it yourself, but somehow you know it won’t be as meaningful that way.

…Or maybe you just want your prince to sweep you off your feet.

You’re quickly coming to find that you’re deeply in love with this man. He’s your best friend, he’s practically your brother, and you’ve known him for years and years, yet you love him. Honestly, you wonder why you ever thought that you _can’t_ fall in love with someone who is also your friend. He’s strong and smart and supportive, he is all of those things but at the same time he firmly believes that he is not. He believes he is broken, that he is incapable of taking responsibility for his actions, that he could ever back down from a challenge like having a baby. You don’t believe he would ever back down. You know he wouldn’t. He is too strong, too passionate, and he…

He is your soulmate.

You truly believe this and you’re starting to think that Dirk can feel it too. You can feel it in the way he squeezes your hand in his, even during something as simple as buying a crib and a car seat for the baby at Wal-Mart. You can feel it in the way he quirks his lips at you and so freely takes his shades off around you, because he trusts you and he loves you. Whether or not that love is of romantic leanings, he loves you. It’s there. You _know_ it’s there.

You giggle and hold his arm while he shows you a goofy looking thing called a nursing poncho and says something like ‘we’ll give them something much worse to look at rather than your sexy milk boob’, then buys a Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff towel and a sewing kit and claims he’s going to ‘pimp out your poncho’ the second the two of you get home. You just laugh and laugh because Dirk knows how to do it. He can make you laugh and cry and feel a whole spectrum of feelings and emotions that nobody else can bring out of you.

You don’t think Jake could even fit the bill that Strider is smacking down. You love Jake dearly as a friend, but the man has never made you laugh like the way you’re laughing now.  He’s just not as witty as Dirk. He can’t time his jokes as well as Dirk, he can’t make you let out an embarrassing snort like Dirk can just by quoting his brother’s cruddy movies. Jake is funny for a whole different reason; the majority of the reason you ever laugh at him is because you’re exasperated. You suppose you’re just too mature for his high school-aged humor.

It’s the exact kind of humor that Roxy likes, so you’re not surprised the two of them ended up together. It doesn’t mean they’re not as smart because, goodness, Roxy far surpasses your own intelligence and you’re sure there are some things in which even Dirk can’t outsmart her. She just isn’t on the same level of humor as you and Dirk are.

Here you are, raving about how funny Dirk is, absolutely smitten with the way he can make you laugh. It’s such a petty and seemingly insignificant thing but, heck, if it isn’t a humongous reason why you’re in love with him in the first place. Roxy was right all along, it’s good to have a man who knows how to have fun and make you laugh.

You hope you bring Dirk the same enjoyment he brings you. You don’t get him to laugh much, but that’s mostly just his personality. So you content yourself with that fact and revel in the beautiful warmth that fills you whenever you hear that wheezing, breathy chuckle or see that slight upturn of his lips. Which, may you add, he shows to you much more than anyone else.

“Jane.”

You look to him and smile up at him, eyes glittering behind silly red 50s-style glasses, and he looks like he’s at a loss for words. He opens his lips, shuts them again, then tries again.

“…You look very pretty.”

His southern twang makes itself known and you laugh at him for the millionth time today. You smile widely at him.

“Thank you, Mister Strider, you look very pretty yourself.”

“That’s not what I… shit.”

He looks a bit distraught so you silence him with a squeeze of your hand.

“I know what you meant,” you say soothingly. You nudge him with your shoulder. “And let me repeat myself: you look very pretty, too.”

His lips become a thin, taut line and he nods once. Yes, you understand the implications of what he said.

Dirk Strider just tried and failed to tell you that he loved you in the middle of Wal-Mart. Perhaps he had been reading your thoughts from earlier. You don’t quite know. All you’re certain of is that the two of you have filled the quota you had set: let’s try to fall in love. As far as you’re concerned, you’re already there. You’ve already _been_ there.

And it’s only a matter of time before it all spills out. 

* * *

 

The morning after shopping for the nursery, you awaken to an empty bed. The pillow beside yours is cold. You sit up, feeling groggy from last night (the baby has become restless inside of you), and slip out of bed. Waddling to the door, you exit the bedroom and head to the guest bedroom. The nursery.

There, you find Dirk, snoring in the new rocking chair with paint all over his arms and cheeks. Blinking in confusion, you look over at the wall above the crib. Your mother’s portrait of a blue lily hangs there. Dirk has painted orange lilies on the wall all around it.

Hanging above the crib is the mobile he promised to create. Instead of SBaHJ things you had expected, you find a heart symbol painted magenta, a swirly life symbol painted green, a golden light symbol, a red time symbol, a blue void symbol, a cream hope symbol, a blue breath symbol, a white space symbol. All of the symbols of a game the whole lot of you used to play. You don’t quite remember why this game was so significant, but something about the painted symbols of all of the people you love brings tears to your eyes. Stepping forward, you take the heart symbol into your hands. It’s still a little tacky from the paint, so you immediately let go of it, but you stand there and admire it nonetheless.

“What aspect do you think she would’ve been?”

You look over at Dirk, who has one eye cracked open and is gazing tiredly at you.

“It’s been so long since we’ve played that game, Dirk, I don’t remember all of the aspects,” you say gently. He chuckles. “You remember?”

“No. But I see those symbols a lot in my dreams.”

“Me too,” you admit.

“It frightens me.”

You gaze at him before going to the rocking chair and caressing his cheek.

“It frightens you? Then why did you put them over the baby’s crib?”

“Because…” he trails off. His eyes flutter shut and he leans his head back against the back of the rocking chair as you continue to stroke his cheek. “It makes me feel as if… I accomplished something… like I’ve overcome something against all odds. It reminds me that I’m alive. And that I intend to stay that way.”

You lean down until your foreheads are touching and his eyelashes brush against your cheeks. He opens his eyes and they’re glazed over with exhaustion.

“Kiss me,” he says.

“Not yet,” you reply. He groans and pouts with his eyes closed as you laugh and stand up straight. “Not when you’re not even fully awake!”

“I’m not sleepy.”

“You’re going to bed right now, Mister.”

You haul your impossible partner out of the chair and help him into the bedroom again. Behind you, the mobile turns, turns, turns, the life symbol spinning around and around and around. It unsettles you for reasons you can’t explain.

Oftentimes you find yourself sitting in your rocking chair late at night, humming to your baby and rocking slowly back and forth as you watch the mobile twist. Dirk put a coat of polish on the symbols on the mobile, so they glimmer when they turn now. You find yourself hypnotized by the colorful shapes, the life symbol in particular. You’re not entirely sure why. It was just a silly game the four of you used to play together. From what you know, Rose and Dave and even Jake’s grandma and your grandpa played as well. Eight symbols. Eight players. That’s all you really remember about it. It was some silly apocalyptic scenario you’re pretty sure. The four of you have tried finding the game again online, but there are no traces of it anywhere. You can’t remember the name of it for the life of you.

But no matter, the present is now and there’s no need to dwell on the past. Still, as you stare expressionlessly at the life symbol, you feel as if you’re forgetting something very important that you can’t put your finger on.

The baby gives a nervous flutter. You don’t know how you know she’s nervous, but you suppose you feel sort of nervous so you can understand her sentiments.

“Shh, my darling,” you soothe, rubbing your belly. You think about your due date. It’s coming soon. You haven’t had any false contractions yet, so you suppose that’s a good thing. It won’t be long until you’ll have to go to a breathing class with Dirk. You’ll ask Doctor Maryam about it during your next appointment. How long do you have now? Doctor Maryam said it’d be a September baby, and you’re pretty far along into your third trimester, so the baby will most likely be born in late August or early September. You think about Rose and Dave’s wedding. How ironic would it be if you went into labor during the wedding?

Then you think that it would be absolutely ridiculous, because that is simply much too cliché of a plot twist even for _you_. If you had an audience for your ridiculously plain and uneventful life, they would most certainly groan in exasperation at the god who made this choice for you. Oh she’s going into labor on the important wedding day? Of course she’s going into labor on the wedding day because something terrible is expected to happen to her.

But no, the gods won’t have you this time. You’ve had enough rotten luck in your life and you’re not about to have another. You decide you will _not_ be going into labor during the wedding. No, because you’re not predictable like that. You’re Plain Jane and super unfortunate things don’t happen to you.

The baby gives another kick and you chuckle softly and tell her that you’re just thinking and that nothing’s wrong. Rubbing your belly, you forget about your impending due date and start thinking about things like cradling your new baby and dealing with poopy diapers. You wonder how Dirk’s going to like that.

From somewhere within the house, Dirk calls for you, so you stand slowly and carefully, cupping your heavy belly as you move and grunting with the effort of getting up. She’s getting to be quite big, you think. As you waddle out of the nursery, you wonder how on earth all of your daughter is going to fit through such a small hole.

The life symbol glints at you.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * 
> 
> chapter 23 aka  
> expectation of yoga while pregnant: beautiful and arousing  
> reality of yoga while pregnant: uncontrollable farting and peeing a little when you bend down and the baby presses on your bladder
> 
> but who said smut had to be realistic amirite
> 
> Special thanks to cherryburlesque for proofing work.

Throughout the next few weeks, you and Dirk slowly adjust to the fully-furnished-home life. Dirk starts leaving piles of screws all over the floor again, but you keep him in line by demanding him that he keep it out of the main living areas. You’ve become quite fond of the bunny you bought for the baby and decide to name it Li’l Sebastian, which Dirk approves of immensely. Dirk gets back into the swing of things at work, and you spend several nights alone in your bed, wishing he’d come home from his business trip.  Roxy is the one who keeps you company during these difficult times, helping you around the house and driving you to your June appointment.

“So, Doctor Maryam, do you think she’d be interested?”

“Of course!” Doctor Maryam says with a bright smile on the day of your appointment. “I’m so pleased that you considered my sister’s band!”

“You are welcome to come as well, of course. I’m sure you know of Dirk’s brother, Dave?” you ask as you’re given an ultrasound. The sight of your very developed-looking baby makes you smile. Roxy coos beside you and grabs your hand.

“Yes, indeed. We have met several times,” Doctor Maryam says. “I received an invitation to his wedding reception in the mail, actually, and was wondering whether or not I could make it. But now I most certainly will have to come!”

“You can bring your husband too, if you’d like,” you say. Doctor Maryam chuckles.

“Oh, my dear, I have been widowed for a very long time. My husband was in the Marines and was killed in an explosion,” she says gently. You flush bright red as she turns away from you for a moment to tend to the machine. She still has the same tender, loving smile on her face.

“I’m so sorry,” you say quietly. Doctor Maryam simply waves her hand.

“Do not fret, I have had a lot of time and love to heal,” she says. She smiles as she turns back to you to clean off the ultrasound gel. “In fact, the two boys playing in my sister’s band are my step-brothers. They were my husband’s brothers. They formed their band in honor of him.”

“That’s awesome,” Roxy says, her voice sympathetic. You’re glad she’s pretty much completely sober today for your appointment. “Yeah, Mom will absolutely love having them play at the reception.”

“They’re very good,” Doctor Maryam says proudly. “And they will be incredibly grateful for such a big offer! Thank you so much for considering me first, oh my goodness. But, anyway, everything is still developing nice and neatly, the baby is doing just fine, and you’re perfectly healthy. For these last few weeks, I do advise that you and Mister Strider take some classes here at the hospital in order to prepare you for childbirth. You’ll do things such as learn how to change diapers, washing a baby, holding a baby, et cetera. I also have a yoga video you may take, Miss Crocker. It’s very calm and easy stretching exercises to do with your partner. It’ll get you nice and loosened up and relaxed for the birth. Best of all, you can do it in the privacy of your own home, which is always nice.”

“Thanks!” you say, smiling widely. Doctor Maryam then chortles softly and leans in.

“The DVD I’m giving you also has a section with more… _intimate_ yoga positions for pregnant women, in case you’re at all interested. I’ve heard many things about this particular DVD, and many couples have enjoyed it while nude.”

You blush and begin to shake your head when Roxy interrupts.

“Hell yeah she’ll take that!” she says. Doctor Maryam laughs as she gives you the DVD and pats your shoulder. Roxy just shakes your arm a little. “C’mon Janey, we all know you want to do sexy pregnant yoga with Dirk.”

“Orgasms are actually quite healthy for a pregnancy!” Doctor Maryam points out. “It strengthens the pelvic floor and in many cases has helped the birthing process.”

“Ugh, I know! But that doesn’t make it any less embarrassing to talk about,” you mumble. You nibble on your lip and look down at the DVD in your hands. “But I suppose if it is beneficial to the pregnancy…”

“That’s the spirit!” 

* * *

 

As it turns out, Dirk is much too busy with his new beta for his Auto Responder program to do much yoga with you, even to the point that you have to spend a few of your nightly sessions by yourself. You’re beginning to feel painfully lonely, spending many nights unable to sleep in your own bed because Dirk isn’t there with you. On those nights, you usually come down to sleep on the couch until Dirk wakes you up to get you back into bed and scold you for not sleeping on something that gives you proper support.

On July 1st, however, Dirk finally has some free time to spare, so while you pull out the yoga mats, he slides the coffee table in the living room aside. You watch him as he pops the DVD into the player and presses play, then smile gently at him as he turns and comes back. He’s absolutely exhausted and you know that he’d rather be napping than doing this right now, but you appreciate his honest efforts to make sure you’re happy.

“Dirk? Perhaps it’s time to take a short break from all of your work? Maybe a day or two off?” you ask in the middle of warm-up stretching. Dirk’s hands slide along your arms, helping you lift them straight up before lowering them slowly and repeating the cycle.

“I wish I could,” Dirk sighs. His voice is gravelly and tired. “But duty calls, babe, can’t let down the big guys upstairs. They’re expecting a completed prototype of the AR program by Friday, and I keep finding loopholes and bugs in the response grid. They’re minor but there are so many it’s fucking insane. But anyway, if I don’t have anything to show the CEO by the end of the week, I’m fucked.”

“Alright…” you sigh. Dirk assists you as you bend to the left, then the right, your arms raised straight up and over your head. You find yourself relaxing despite your sadness, so you lean back into Dirk’s hold and let him manipulate your body as he pleases. You trust him irrevocably, not at all worried that he’ll overdo it.

Once warm-up is finished, the majority of the actual ‘stretching’ of the video is sitting cross-legged on the floor and breathing. So you do just that while Dirk sits behind you with his legs stretched out on either side of you, his hand slipping around from behind to hold your belly in his warm hands. He breathes with you, his breath hot in your ears and his body pressed flush up behind you and making you shiver with the contact.

“Dirk,” you whisper, shifting. You lean your head back against his shoulder and he runs his hands up to your throat. You quiver slightly.

“Yes?”

“Do you think that… maybe…” you trail off. You look at him desperately and he frowns apologetically.

“I can’t. I only set enough time aside for this, Jane.”

“Please,” you beg, watching with dread as the yoga video comes to an end.

“Later,” he whispers in your ear before kissing it. “I promise.”

He gently disentangles himself from you and retires back to his office. You pout and cross your arms, feeling embarrassed for even asking and moody for not getting what you wanted. With a sigh, you haul yourself to your feet and head upstairs, where you begin to undress to get ready for bed.

But something makes you pause. Why should you have to feel embarrassed or ashamed? With your lip between your teeth, you pad slowly to your dresser and dig around in your top drawer.

You pull out a blood red lingerie set complete with lacy bra, a transparent split-front top, lacy panties, and a pair of thigh-high stockings. Flushing bright red, you bring the set over to the bed and stare at it. It had been a gift from Roxy. She had told you that she knows Dirk like the back of her hand. That lingerie for him is one of his many, many fetishes. In fact, you wonder…

You dig out the red collar and leash in the bottom drawer of your bedside table. Just touching the smooth leather material has your heart pounding and your neck perspiring out of embarrassment. There’s nothing wrong with having a kinky partner, you suppose, but if it isn’t the most _humiliating_ thing-

You think that’s exactly what Dirk wants.

With a deep breath, you pull on the lingerie and clip the collar on before standing in front of the mirror to look at yourself. The split opening of the lingerie top frames your belly quite nicely. It distracts from the stretch marks, but on more than one occasion, Dirk has complimented them, so you’re not too worried about them. You then take some time to freshen up in the bathroom and apply some makeup (especially smear-resistant cherry red lipstick) and a spot of sweet-smelling, sugary perfume. The one Dirk loves. You’ve caught him spraying and then sniffing the air on numerous occasions, so you have resorted to hiding it deep in the bathroom cabinet to be sure that Dirk doesn’t waste it. When you’re feeling as fresh as you can be, you add one final touch to your hair (adjusting the little curl on your forehead that Dirk loves so much) and go back into the bedroom.

Taking the tea tray from this morning’s coffee in bed, you set the empty cups aside and delicately place the leash in the center before tiptoeing downstairs. Your heart is in your throat and your knees are shaking, but you can’t help the smile that creeps to your lips. Once you’re downstairs, you bravely go to Dirk’s door. It takes a long, long time to hype yourself up, so you stand there for a while with your hand raised to knock, but you never bring your knuckles forward. You’re about to leave and just give up when you hear a groan from inside. A long, frustrated groan followed by a thud can be heard, which you can only describe as Dirk flopping his head down onto the table.

You finally knock once, twice.

“I brought a treat,” you say softly. It’s what you say every time you make Dirk something sweet and sugary for a snack. He loves his late night cookies and cakes and munchies.

“Come on in,” comes his eager but tired reply. He sounds like he’s been desperate for a break from his work again. Putting a shy smile on your face, you slowly open the door and step inside. The light is dim and the room smells slightly of tobacco. You know he smokes occasionally during his projects. However, the window is open and the air in the room is clear as can be. Dirk takes a sip of the beer he has before turning to face you. It takes him a moment to register what you’re wearing before the mouthful of beer dribbles back into his bottle. He sets it aside and rakes his eyes over you once or twice while he wipes his mouth with his arm. You smile a bit bashfully and nod to the tray in your hands.

“Would you like me to set your treat aside for later?” you ask. You sound innocent, asking the same questions you always do when you bring Dirk his nightly snacks.

“I’ll take it now,” he says quietly. He turns in his office chair and starts to stand, but you come forward and gently push him back down. You then offer him the tray and he takes the leash in one hand, his thumb running over the leather, before looking over his shoulder at his desk and the blueprints that lay scattered all over it. “…Shit, Jane, I don’t know if-”

“Shh,” you hush. You unbutton the front of his shirt and let it fall open, then you lower yourself to your knees. You’re thankful the floor is carpeted. Dirk swallows, takes one last look at his desk, then turns back to you and slips off his work glasses. You smile and lean your head against his thigh while you rub his opposite leg with your hand. “I’m lonely.”

Dirk gulps and slowly lowers the leash so he can clip it to your collar. He tugs gently and you moan, eyelids fluttering shut.

“I know, kitten,” he murmurs. “I’m sorry I’ve been neglectful.”

“Have I been bad?” you ask softly. It brings a blush to your face but you keep your eyes closed to avoid looking Dirk in the eyes. You feel his fingers tickling you under your chin.

“You haven’t been bad. Not at all. You’re a very good little pet.”

“Then may I have my reward?”

A gravelly groan comes from Dirk and you slowly open your eyes to see him clenching your leash so tightly in his hands that his knuckles are white. His abdomen trembles as he lolls his head to the side and chews his lip.

“Yes,” he says. You watch, obediently quiet, as he toys with his belt buckle and opens it. He slides his belt slowly out of the loops of his jeans, then opens up his pants and pulls the zipper down. “Take them off for me.”

You lift your hands to help him ease out of his jeans, leaving him in his boxers. He shifts in his chair so he can spread his legs further apart to accommodate you more. You lick your lips as he pushes down the front of his boxers and takes out his half-mast cock. Leaning forward, you open your lips to suck him, but a sharp tug on your leash has you moaning and whining with need.

“Don’t touch,” he says in a firm voice. “Keep your hands to yourself.”

You watch as his fingers move over the underside of his dick in an agonizingly slow manner, teasing you and making you sigh and shift and whimper. Your fingers come up to rest on his bare calves, but another yank of your leash has your hands dropping back into your lap.

He’s hardening fast, the skin of his cock becoming taut and the head flushing with arousal. He groans softly above you as he swipes his thumb over the tip and spreads the bit of precum that had beaded there.

“Please,” you whisper. You can’t remember if you’re roleplaying anymore or if you’re being utterly and completely sincere. “Master?”

“Yes, pet?” Dirk asks. His voice is strained as your hot breath fans over him. You hadn’t realized you were panting. “What would you like?”

“Mmn,” you whine. You bring your head forward to lick, but he tugs and again you are denied. His hand keeps lazily moving up and down his length. The more you look, the more tantalizing it is, and the more tantalizing it is, the more your own arousal begins to soak through your panties. “I want to…”

“Hmm?”

“I want to lick,” you say quietly. Your blush spreads to your ears and your chest. Dirk chuckles, low and sultry, making you quiver.

“You’re going to have to be more specific, kitten. Unless you’re trying to deny me my treat, in which case some punishment may be in order.”

“No, I want… to lick you. Please.”

“Lick where?”

You bite your lip.

“Your… your c-cock, I want to lick it,” you struggle to stammer. Dirk twitches in front of you and he hisses as he swipes his thumb over his slit again and offers you the wetness on him. You eagerly lean forward and suck the precum right off his thumb before he withdraws.

“Only one lick?” Dirk asks teasingly. Now he’s just being cruel. You whimper and bounce a little.

“Nooo, I want to suck it. Really bad.”

“Ohh. You should have said so, pet. But now I’m not sure if you deserve-”

“Please let me suck your cock,” you blurt, panting again. “Please Master.”

Dirk growls softly and finally pulls you forward by the leash. He doesn’t let you use your hands, so he helps guide his cock past your lips and into your mouth. You sit there for a few long moments, lavishing the head and the top half of him with your tongue. You pull away and gaze at it as it bobs with arousal, then dart the tip of your tongue over the tip before you rain open-mouthed kisses all the way down to the base and then all the way back up to the top. You nuzzle his platinum blonde curls (the first time you properly looked at the color you had been very surprised to find that the carpet does, indeed, match the drapes) and nibble at the sensitive, soft skin there. Above you, Dirk lets out sighs and little grunts, definitely not as much sound as you’re making. With every taste you get of his salty skin you moan with appreciation and look up through your lashes at him.

Now, to clarify, you _do_ know how to suck a cock. Dirk knows this. You know this. However, as you move back up to the tip and begin lowering your head slowly, you purposefully make little mistakes. You scrape him a bit with your teeth. You don’t breathe through your nose. You drool sloppily. Knowing Dirk intimately has taught you that the man likes it when you ‘struggle’ with his thickness and his length. Perhaps it makes him feel bigger (he is already the perfect size so you don’t know why he’d be concerned about this) or maybe he likes the way you whimper with protest as your throat contracts around him. All you know is that this is, again, one of Dirk Strider’s many kinks and that you will happily indulge him with it if he so pleases.

“Mm, breathe through your nose,” Dirk hisses. “C’mon, kitten, you can do it.”

You obediently close your lips around him and breathe shakily through your nose. You pretend to look indignantly up at him before promptly sucking him down to the hilt and hollowing your cheeks around him. Dirk jerks and his free hand finds its way to your hair, where he knots his fingers in your curls and holds you down. You put your hand on his knee, letting him know that you are well aware of the safe signal (crossing your fingers) and that, if you need it, you will use it.

But you’ve done this many times before, your gag reflexes are quite astounding (especially after getting your tonsils removed when you were seventeen), so you can sit there and deepthroat him for quite a long time before he lets you pull back to gasp in a lungful of air. When you open your eyes, a few tears leak out, but as strings of saliva and precum hang between your lips and his cock, you are definitely ready for more.

“I’m going to fuck your mouth,” Dirk snarls, fingers tightening in your hair. You moan, eager and ready, your lips falling open. He holds your leash and pulls so you straighten on your knees. He stands from his chair and holds your head still as he thrusts relentlessly. You can feel your collar tightening whenever he slides partway down your throat and makes it bulge a little, but the lack of air flow only has you moaning louder and louder.

Dirk lets out a shout and pulses in your mouth before you feel him spilling endlessly into your throat. He pulls out after you’ve already got half of his seed in your mouth then releases the rest on your face, groaning as he pumps himself with his hand. You catch as much as you can on your tongue, but the majority lands on your cheeks and chin.

When he’s finished, he flops back into his chair and tips his head back, his damp cock softening on his stomach. Once he’s caught his breath, he tiredly reaches out, pulls open the first drawer of his desk, and pulls out a… smuppet.

“C’mere, babe,” he says. He lets you use his knees as support as you haul yourself to your feet. You watch as Dirk tapes the toy to the arm of his desk chair. “Hump it.”

“A smuppet, really?” you deadpan. A sharp yank of the leash and a sharp slap on your ass has you whimpering and obediently going to his chair. Dirk watches with a smirk on his lips as you board the arm of his office chair, but he supports you with one hand (the one with the leash) on your hip and the other hand on your leg, which you’ve lifted up onto Dirk’s lap to give you some leverage. Dirk squeezes the foot of the… smuppet thing and it promptly begins to vibrate. Despite your doubts, you moan and grind hard against the elongated nose. This is so humiliating, to have Dirk watching you as you desperately dry hump the nose of a ridiculous sex toy, but if it’s what he likes-

“God damn you’re so fuckin’ sexy,” Dirk drawls. His accent is slipping through again so you know he’s tired. The fact that he tries so hard to stay awake for you even after he finishes is adorable to say the least, but if he falls asleep in his chair you are certainly not carrying him upstairs. “Fuck that fuckin’ smuppet.”

“Not helping,” you pant, tipping your head back and closing your eyes.

“Sorry.”

You pick up the pace and rut frantically against the smuppet, moaning and whispering Dirk’s name. He forgets the leash and opts to squeeze your ass instead, kneading hard and helping you grind down against the vibrating toy beneath you.

“Ah, ah, _Dirk_ -”

“Cum for me, baby, c’mon.”

You let out a squeal of delight as your whole body tightens and releases. Your legs quake and you struggle to keep yourself standing. Dirk supports you and helps you rock your hips against the smuppet as your orgasm washes over you in waves, starting strong before slowly trickling off into a steady, pleasant throbbing. When the vibrations begin to over-stimulate you, you whine and Dirk switches it off. You shakily raise yourself off of the arm of his chair and he smiles down at the soaked smuppet and the syrupy, wet mess you left on his chair.

“I’m sorry,” you say. Dirk just pulls the smuppet off the chair and licks the nose, making you swallow.

“Don’t apologize. I like the smell of sex and cum. Especially yours,” Dirk says shamelessly. You cover your eyes, forget that there’s cum on your face, and jerk your head back with a grimace. Dirk just laughs and hands you a tissue, which you take gratefully. “But I am tired as shit, so can we go to bed?”

You smile at him and reach out to take his hand. He stands and leans heavily on you, nearly asleep on his feet.

“Yes, of course. Did you enjoy your treat?”

“Yes. Hell yes. Hell. Fucking. Yes.”         


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long, folks! I had a busy, busy, busy few weeks at work and I was either too exhausted to write or was caught in a block! Updates will be slowed down a bit to avoid burning myself out, so don't expect the usual every day update. However, I am very much planning to see this through to the end, so don't worry about that!
> 
> Special thanks to cherryburlesque for proofing work.

It’s been over a month with Dirk’s busiest days. You’ve probably seen him about forty hours out of that entire month. It has led to a number of arguments; he’d get upset with you for overworking yourself, you’d get upset with him for insisting that you stay home while he goes on his business trips. He’s been all over the world: Japan, Africa, Russia, Europe, South America, Canada, Iceland. He’s also been all over the country, bringing you home souvenirs as he goes (and flowers for apologies for fights) and working himself to the bone. You know he’s utterly exhausted, you know he’s fed up, you know he’s stressed out. It doesn’t stop the frustration you feel.

He _still_ hasn’t kissed you, and with each passing day it annoys you more and more. You’re not certain how much more of this aloofness you can take. You indulge him in some of his strangest kinks and fantasies (well, he does with you too, you suppose) in bed, you make him his favorite meals, but still not even a peck on the lips. It’s infuriating.

What? Of course you can’t kiss him! That would be against every story ever of a prince sweeping his lovely maiden off of her feet. It’s a ridiculous notion, and you will be having absolutely none of that! You will have your (kind of) first kiss with Dirk, _by_ Dirk, if it kills you. Sure, you’ve kissed him before, but that was in drunken stupor! You already know you’re in love with him, now you want him to prove it from his end, too.

So you will wait and wait until he finally goes for it.

On August 13th, your eyes flutter open to the sight of the oak tree that hangs over your house swinging with the breeze in the window. It’s a beautiful day, and it isn’t too hot because of the shade that the overhanging oak tree provides. You’re incredibly grateful for the air conditioning as well. Without it, you’re sure you would’ve melted during this long last trimester of pregnancy.

Beside you, Dirk shifts and you let your eyes slide shut again so you can pretend you’re still asleep. You feel him sit up and you hear him yawn and stretch and smack his lips. You then feel his slender fingers brushing your hair back, so you let your eyes ease open again.

“Hey,” he says. His voice is hoarse from last night after your round of passionate make-up sex. “You’re really fucking bad at pretending to sleep.”

A grin cracks open your face and you giggle as you roll onto your back. The baby bump is so unbelievably heavy that it makes it hard to breathe, so you quickly flop back over onto your side again and whine in protest. Dirk chuckles.

“Havin’ trouble there, babe?”

“Hush up, you. The baby is getting to be really heavy!”

“I can see that,” Dirk says softly. You watch as he gently tugs the sheets down your naked body so he can press a lingering kiss to the side of your belly. You’re fairly certain the baby is still asleep because she doesn’t kick back at Dirk’s lips like she usually does.

“We should start thinking about names,” you say after a while. “I was thinking something nice and short and simple.”

“Same here,” Dirk says. He sits up and crosses his legs, not minding if he’s naked. While the two of you think, he rubs your body up and down with smooth, gentle strokes. “How ‘bout Harley?”

“Is that a reference to one of your ridiculous abridged Pony Pals books, mister?”

“Maybe.”

“We’re not naming our daughter a name that makes you think of speech impediments.”

Dirk laughs.

“Alright. Sorry, Mistress.”

“Hmm… perhaps Evelyn? Then we can call her Eve,” you suggest. Dirk shrugs.

“Too old sounding, I think,” he says. “I feel like that should be a granny’s name.”

“Well my name is Jane and that’s from the fifties!”

“True.”

The two of you scratch your chins at the same time and it leads to Dirk copying you, so you tackle him (as best as you can, anyway) and the two of you giggle before indulging in a round of morning sex. You decide to allow yourself to forget about names for now.

Later, as you’re showering, you hear Dirk come in to use the bathroom. He warns you that he’s going to flush so you momentarily move the shower nozzle so it’s spraying against the wall.

“Hey Jane?”

“Hmm?”

“I laid out your white dress,” he says gently. You blink and poke your head out of the shower as shampoo suds dribble down your forehead. Dirk is looking a bit sheepish as he moves to put his hands in his pockets, realizes he’s only in his boxers, and instead opts to cross his arms.

“Why?” you ask. “Are we going somewhere today?”

“Yeah,” he replies. Even without his shades, he is an expert at hiding things, so you squint at him and give him a little half-smile.

“Oh? And I have to wear my nicest dress for it? Very sneaky, Mister Strider,” you say. You wag your finger at him. “It better not be a blasted puppet show.”

Dirk chuckles.

“Nah, you’re not that lucky.”

You flick water at him and he ducks easily out of the way, still chortling as he exits the bathroom and makes his way down the hall. Now you’re riled up and wildly curious, so you hurry to finish your shower and bolt out of the bathroom as soon as you’re dry. Dirk must think it’s rather comical to see a grown naked pregnant woman waddling as fast as she can into the bedroom, because he starts laughing at you so hard that you’re afraid he’s going to have a heart attack. You punch him in the shoulder and all he does is lie back on the bed, his hands under his head, his ankles crossed, looking very proud of himself. You give him a suspicious look and all he does is smirk at you.

That look fades as he rolls onto his side, props his head up onto his elbow, and watches you get dressed. Your movements are slow even though you’re moving as fast as your weight allows you; putting one careful leg into your panties at a time, adjusting your swollen breasts in your maternity bra. You frown briefly in the mirror at your bright red stretch marks and the way your belly button is popping out.

“Jane, you’re really fucking beautiful.”

You turn to glance at Dirk with a shy little smile on your face.

“Oh, stop it.”

“Oh, you don’t think I’m serious? Because I’m dead fucking serious,” he says. He pauses. “I’m going to make you my wife.”

Your cheeks light up and your blush spreads to your ears and neck.

“You are really something else, Strider,” you say with a shaking voice. You pull your white dress up and over your head. When your head pops out again, Dirk is right there in front of you. You practically shriek and fall back in surprise, but Dirk’s got a good grip on your body as he helps you pull your dress down so it flutters around the tops of your knees. Scratch that, he has a good grip on _everything_. His stupid sexy gaze has a grip on your heart and your eyes and your entire bloody _face_ for that matter. He doesn’t smell spectacular since he hasn’t had his shower yet, but his natural musky scent has you wavering on your feet and curling your toes in the carpet. Strider is just heaps of attractive and you…

Well, you’re just Plain Jane.

Dirk sees the look on your face and laughs before pulling you in for an embrace.

“Come on. You seriously don’t need a hawk-nose like me to tell you that you’re fucking stunning. I wish you could see it all on your own.”

“I think my nose is cute,” you admit, tapping the tip of your button nose. Dirk stares at you for a moment before hugging you even tighter.

“God damn, you’re perfection bundled up in a cute little Asian woman’s body. According to basic physics, you technically cannot possibly exist. There’s too much lovable, cuddly Jane in one small body.”

“Hehe!” you giggle as Dirk peppers your cheeks with kisses. You try to turn your face a little so he misses and kisses your lips, but Dirk is much quicker than that and pulls away before you get lucky. You pout and he just thumbs your cheek for a moment before stepping away from you completely and going to his separate dresser. You watch him as he pulls some black slacks and a white button-up out so he can lay them on the bed. “Oh, so you’re dressing up, too? Are we going on a romantic dinner date?”

“No.”

“A walk in the park?”

“Nope.”

“…A dance?”

“Stop trying to guess, because you’re not going to guess it. I’m going to shower real quick. Put on some comfy shoes so we’re ready by the time I’m done,” Dirk says. He chuckles when you stamp your foot and huffily march over to your shoes, where you daintily (but irritably) pull on a pair of comfortable sandals.

“This better be worth all the yanking around and all your weird shenanigans!” you grump.

“Trust me, it will be.”

* * *

 

Not even thirty minutes later, you’re pulling up to your father’s driveway. You raise an eyebrow and look over at Dirk, who just looks smug. Just like he always does. With a roll of your eyes, you step out of the car and he follows suit. You could almost say he looks giddy about the way he steps with somewhat of a quickened pace, hurrying you along the stepping stones up to the front porch.

“I’m not sure if I have to knock or if I can just enter,” you admit once you get to the front door. You wring your hands a little before cautiously reaching out to touch the handle. “I guess I can just-”

When the door opens, you’re met with an explosion of sound and color as all of your friends and family jump out at you and yell ‘surprise’ at the top of their lungs. It surprises you so much that you nearly wet yourself. Dirk looks concerned for a split second, but the moment a bright smile breaks open your face, he relaxes.

“What the devil is all this?!” you yell, gesturing wildly at… everything. Everyone is here. Roxy is wearing a party hat, Jake is clearly drunk, and your father has a huge cake in his arms. Streamers and banners hang from the walls and the ceiling, and the coffee table is overflowing with presents wrapped in silvery paper. You’re so confused your head is spinning, so you naturally come to one conclusion. “It’s not my birthday.”

Everyone laughs and you feel Dirk’s hands on your shoulders as he leads you forward.

“Of course it’s not, doofus!” Roxy says while Jake sticks his nose in her strawberry blonde hair and sniffs. Rose looks on with a look on her face, but it’s not disapproving. “It’s your baby shower! Surpiiiise, Janey!”

“A baby sho…” you trail off. You suddenly whirl around and smack Dirk in the chest. “ _Dirk!_ ”

“You deserve it,” Dirk assures. He brings you in for a hug while you smack his chest again and hide your blushing face. “Aren’t you happy?”

“Of course I am!” you cry. “But this is all so much, I can’t even-”

“As your father I hereby command you to have an extraordinary baby shower,” Dad says, setting the cake down on the kitchen table before coming back into the living room and taking off his trademark fedora.

…Which, in turn, reveals a full head of lush black hair with a few strands of grey mixed in. You, of course, shriek at the top of your lungs.

“Dad!” you shout. “Your _hair!_ ”

Dad flushes and squirms a bit before self consciously reaching up and tousling his new locks.

“You like it? I figured since I’m going to try dating again, I might as well fit the part. It was quite the scene; they had to remove a strip of scalp from the back of my head to put it up here and… let’s just say it was quite the gruesome process. But, here I am, quite alive and well with a full head of hair!”

“I’ll say. Looking good, Mister C,” Dirk purrs. Roxy gives you a huge wink and you just roll your eyes and go right up to your father so you can give him a big hug.

“Whatever makes you happy, Dad,” you say against his strong chest. He hugs you back. “You looked handsome with your bald spot, too.”

“What did I tell you about fibbing, young lady?”

You giggle while your father kisses the top of your head and gives your belly a quick but affectionate pat.

“Now, enough about this hair nonsense, what say we get back on track? I believe you have some gifts to open, Missy!” Dad says, turning you around. Dave, who has taken off his shades and is hovering near Rose like a fly, steps forward with his arm outstretched and takes your hand in his. He leads you to the couch like a princess and, by the time you get there, you’re blushing up a storm and everyone is chuckling at you and oh my goodness this is the most humiliating thing that has ever happened to you. But still, you can’t help but to love it. Here you were, thinking Dirk had just been taking you on a small date or something just to celebrate being together and another day going by without grief or heartbreak, when in fact everyone had been planning this big party for you.

You’re flattered. You kind of want to cry. You’re kinda craving that cake. But most of all, you feel very special, which brings tears to your eyes. You had no idea people could care about you this much.

Now sitting on the couch, you rub your belly while you look at the gifts. Dirk sits beside you and everyone else kind of circles up around the coffee table, either sitting on the floor or leaning up against something or perched in the arm chair. Either way, everyone has their attention on you and it’s quite possibly the most overwhelming thing in the world.

“C’mon, squirt and squirt jr., open some presents,” Dave says to you, which earns him a sharp pinch in the arse from Rose. He hisses at her and they bicker under their breaths back and forth while you focus on your giant pile of gifts in front of you. You reach over to pick up the closest one and Jake makes some crazed happy motion.

“That’s from me and Roshy!” he slurs, lifting his glass. You laugh as Dad gives him a disapproving look. “I mean, Rooooxy. Confound it all, my tongue is the size of King Kong himself, blimey!”

Roxy snorts and snatches up Jake’s glass so she can take a sip herself, then nods at you to open your gift. You look down at it and carefully pull at the wrapping paper. It’s so pretty and sparkly that you don’t want to-

“Oh my god Jane please, I can’t take the anticipation,” Dave moans. He gets another pinch, then he huffs as he plops himself right down in Rose’s lap. She grunts but doesn’t push him away, instead wrapping her arms around his waist.

“Hey, leave her alone, she’s mine,” Dirk says. His arm slips around your shoulders as he pulls you in for a kiss on the cheek. “Don’t listen to that dickhead, Jane, you open that thing in an hour if you have to.”

You just chortle at the brothers’ bantering and quicken your pace just a tad. You shuck all of the wrapping off the box, then open it up excitedly. Inside you find a huge variety of custom-made bibs with a whole bunch of different symbols on it. There’s one with a pink cat, another with a green skull, a third with an orange hat, and another with a blue monster. Just like the trademark shirts the four of you used to wear when you were younger.

“Oh my gosh,” you coo. You hand the bibs to Dirk and he takes them with a little grin.

“That’s not all!” Roxy singsongs. “You have two more gifts from us.”

“Oh, you shouldn’t have,” you say, but you find yourself reaching out for the two equal sized boxes both labeled as from Roxy and Jake. Together, you and Dirk open them to find a similar set of custom made onesies with the same four symbols on them, and then yet another set of onesies. One of them has a heart pattern, another has a spades pattern, then a clubs pattern, and finally a diamonds pattern.

“These are fucking sweet,” Dirk says after a moment. “Shit. Thanks, guys.”

“Yes, thank you so much!” you exclaim. You move to sit up and hug the two of them, but Roxy and Jake beat you to it. They bring you in for a tight embrace, and you enjoy it despite your awkward position on the couch.

As your baby shower goes on, you also receive a set of baby blankets, a wide array of toys and stuffed animals, a Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff poncho for nursing (this causes Dave and Dirk to get into a huge fight since Dirk made you practically the same thing except with a different SBaHJ scene), baby books, and pacifiers.

“Thank you so much, everyone,” you say while you cradle all of your gifts in your hands. Dirk is fiddling with a tiny knit hat that your father knitted for the baby when she’s born. You turn to look at him, but he’s frowning hard, his eyebrows pulled tightly together and his shoulders tense. You reach for him carefully, but before you can touch him, your father speaks up.

“You’ve grown up so much, Jane,” he says gently. You turn back to him with a smile, then haul yourself to your feet to teeter over and give him a hug. He embraces you back nice and tight, not letting you escape his warmth. Knowing this hug is going to be a long one, you relax against him and enjoy it. “I am unbelievably proud of you. But I suppose it’s hard to be ready for you to grow up so fast as your father… but having a granddaughter soon will help ease the pain a little.”

You hear ~~Roxy~~ Jake let out a squeal and a smack as Roxy claps her hand over his mouth. Curious, you try to turn and see what all the hubbub is about, but Dad does not let you go.

“I just hope that even when you’re a Strider,” your father says softly. Your stomach bottoms out. “You’ll remember where everything started.”

Now your father releases you and you can’t even turn around to face everyone because you’re shaking so hard. So you look over your shoulder to see that Dirk is gone. No, scratch that, he’s not gone, he’s just-

“Oh, _come on!_ ” you yell out loud. You turn your head away firmly from the sight of Dirk down on one knee behind you. You shove your face in your dad’s chest and try to push him out of the way. “That’s it, show’s over, everyone go home!”

Everyone laughs and your face burns as you try to hide from your stupid amazing family and especially stupid sexy Mister Strider, the younger one, who probably had this planned out for weeks and oh _brother_ you’re absolutely terrified-

Your father pulls you away from him and promptly sticks something to your upper lip. When you reach up to feel it, you find your all-too-familiar mustache sitting there. You look up at your father and he’s got tears in his eyes.

“Mangrit powers activate,” he says in a shaking voice. You give him a look.

“The one who should be crying is me, not you.”

“Of course I should be crying, Mister Strider is taking my baby girl away!” Dad sobs. You laugh weakly as you give him a comforting pat on the shoulder.

“For goodness sakes,” you sigh. You take off your mustache and plop it on Dad’s upper lip. “You need this much more than I do.”

While Dad excuses himself to get the camera, weeping the entire way, you finally turn and face Dirk, who is still in the same position. His shades are pushed up onto the top of his head.

“It seems my calculations were wrong, there was a ninety-nine percent chance that you’d be the one in tears, not your dad.”

“ _Someone_ has to be the strong one in this family,” you say indignantly. You cross your arms as best as you can, but it’s kind of hard with both your stomach and your breasts in the way. “And I, Mister Strider, am above your calculations and all of that mechanical hoo-haa. I am going to be your ‘one percent’ for the rest of your life.”

Dirk smirks as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small box. He opens it and reveals an engagement ring with diamonds encrusted all over the golden band. Roxy whistles.

“Holy shit look at that fucking _rock_ on that son of a bit-”

It’s Jake’s turn to cover her mouth with his hand.

“Jane,” Dirk begins. He takes a breath, releases it, and huffs through his nose. “Okay look, I had a script planned out for this and it included some pretty fucking dope rapping, but my knee’s getting tired. So I’ll cut to the chase. It’d be really fucking sweet if you’d marry me. Because I love you. I’m pretty much balls deep in unironic love with you, and this isn’t even about responsibility anymore, I made some calculations and there is a one hundred percent chance that I am completely fucking in love with you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you, baby or not.”

He grimaces.

“That was lame. How can you even stand to look at me when the unscripted shit that comes out of my mouth is complete garbage?”

“Bro,” Dave says from Rose’s lap. “Shut the fuck up.”

“He sounds exactly like you did when you proposed,” Rose croons, laughing. “How fitting.”

“You lost,” you say quietly. Dirk gives you a puzzled look. “Hoohoo, you lost!”

Your voice breaks and Dirk gets to his feet as you wipe at nonexistent tears on your face. A second later, they come heavy and hard, soaking your cheeks. It’s strange because you’ve never felt happier in your life. You suppose this is what they call crying tears of joy. It feels amazing.

“You said ‘I love you’ first,” you say triumphantly. Dirk grins.

“Couldn’t help myself,” he says.

“Well then, I love you too,” you say. It feels good to finally say it. Dirk wipes your tears with his thumbs. “And I will certainly marry you.”

“Praaaaaise _Jesus!_ ” Roxy shrieks. Jake hollers while Dave holds up a thumbs-up and Rose claps softly. Meanwhile, your dad is holding up the video camera while simultaneously crying and shaking. You’re sure, years from now when you all look back on it, all you’ll be able to hear on the recording is your dad’s unbelievable blubbering.

“I hope I got the right size,” Dirk says. “I had to enlist the help of my soon-to-be father-in-law.”

You watch as he lifts your left hand and slips the ring onto your ring finger. It’s a tad loose.

“Shit.”

“I told you, Mister Strider,” your father scolds. “She has tiny hands.”

“It’s fine!” you laugh. You peck Dirk on the cheek. “We can get it resized together.”

Dirk still looks a little bothered by it, so you roll your eyes and cup his face in your hands and just gaze at him for a second.

Oh, to hell with all of that prince sweeping the maiden off her feet mumbo-jumbo.

You yank him forward and land one right on his lips. He responds instantly, pulling you forward with passionate intensity and knotting his fingers in your hair. When he pulls away he looks as if something that has been gnawing at him for months has been finally sated.

“I thought you said no kissing on the lips allowed,” he sighs, sounding a bit dreamy. You give him a puzzled look.

“Huh?”

“Back when we put down ground rules. You said no kissing on the lips allowed.”

You think and think and- oh yeah. You remember now. All of this waiting had, ultimately, been your fault.

“You’re a ridiculous man, Mister Strider.”

“I fucking love you so much.”

“I love you too.”


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to cherryburlesque for proofing work.

To say that the love the two of you made after Dirk’s proposal was absolutely mind-blowingly amazing…

Would be an overstatement.

See, your belly’s big and Dirk’s overly careful with you and it’s hard to find a rhythm, but after a while he’s got you on your side while he straddles one of your thighs and has your other leg bent and curled against his hip. It’s a strange position and it doesn’t hit all of your most sensitive spots, so when he finishes, you’re not anywhere near done.

But you suppose it’s the thought that counts, because the entire time he whispers sweet nothings in your ear, about how much he loves you, how much he can’t wait to see the baby. It’s all so very sweet. You don’t even mind not finishing, because all you want to do is snuggle with your new fiancé and sleep with him.

The days seem to be crawling by at this point. The weight is no longer cute or attractive to you. You just want the baby out so you can admire the life you and Dirk created. You spend long nights in the nursery, rocking back and forth and letting the baby listen to music while you stare at the beautiful mobile hanging above the crib.

“Please don’t let anything go wrong,” you whisper to yourself. You pet your belly and hum along to the bluesy music you’re listening to. The polished mobile glints at you in the light. The baby nudges against you, making you gasp softly and grip at your belly. You can just tell that she’s coming soon by the way she’s getting restless and kicking a little harder with each passing day.

You look up at the mobile just as the life symbol shows itself to you and glimmers.

“Please.”

* * *

 

“Alright, so in case of emergency, I’m bringing our labor kit,” Dirk says as he checks in the duffel bag. “I’ve got our IDs, the paperwork, uh… oh, and I packed one of the baby blankets and Li’l Sebastian to help you relax. Stuff to squeeze. Doctor Maryam told me to bring some slippers as well, in case you want to walk around when you go into labor.”

“I’m not going into labor during the wedding,” you say sternly. You’re currently sitting on the bed beside the duffel bag as Dirk checks it for the fourth time today. “Honestly! I think I’d be feeling labor pains long before now if I was going to go into labor.”

“We need to be prepared,” Dirk snaps. You watch as he continues to obsessively go through the bag. “I put in some toiletries too. In case we’re in there longer… I brought your toothbrush, mine, the toothpaste, and-”

“Dirk,” you say. You reach out and take his hand as gently as you can. He’s trembling. “Please relax.”

“Why did that bastard have to choose today to have his stupid wedding. You’re so close it’s a wonder you haven’t gone into labor yet. The baby is ripe as fuck and about to pop at any fucking moment, yet we’re going to something really loud and exciting and you’re going to be expected to dance-”

“Do you not want me to come?”

“Of course I want you to come,” Dirk says, distressed. “Because I love you and I want you to come with me for something this important. My brother’s getting married and it’s a big thing and I really fucking need you there.”

You take Dirk’s hand and put it on your cheek, letting him caress you and stroke you. He takes a few deep breaths, trying to relax. You rub his arm to help him and, after some time, he exhales and nods.

“Alright. Just… please take it easy tonight,” he says. He leans in and kisses you on the lips, pressing against you hard as if to express all of his love and concern for you. When he pulls away, he sighs onto your face and presses his forehead to yours. “I’m nervous.”

“I can tell,” you giggle. You kiss his nose. “I’ll be fine. And I promise I’ll take it easy, like you said.”

“Are you just saying that or are you going to be Miss Rebellious Jane Crocker-Almost-Strider like you usually are?”

“I promise this time!” you laugh. “Besides, I can’t move very much anyway.”

“Good. I’m not going to let you out of my sight,” Dirk says firmly. “Don’t take it the wrong way.”

“I wouldn’t want to let you out of my sight anyway,” you say. “A handsome gentleman such as yourself is quite nice to look at.”

Dirk visibly relaxes and grins at you before patting your belly and turning back to the duffel bag.

“Alright, I think I got everything. Your dad is bringing the video camera, but I’m bringing mine too just in case. I’m going to bring my laptop, its charger, and a ton of your favorite movies. And I packed my swimming trunks, too.”

You laugh.

“I still don’t understand why you’re bringing those!”

“In case you want to take a shower to help you relax. The nurses are going to want to keep their eyes on you, so I want to bring my swim trunks so I can hop in the shower with you and support you.”

“You’re absolutely ridiculous.”

“I’m fucking smart, that’s what I am. I am prepared for anything, Jane. I will not allow even a single fucking thing to go wrong. I’m not going to be caught with my pants down for this. I’d rather be over-prepared than unprepared,” Dirk says. He sighs and nods, finally deciding the duffel bag is packed enough. “Alright. I think we’re ready.”

“Then let’s go!” you say, standing and straightening your dress. You go to Dirk and pull him up so he’s standing up straight. You adjust his tie and smooth down his dress shirt. “You look so handsome, Dirk.”

“Bullshit,” he murmurs before pecking your cheek. “You look even more gorgeous. I love this dress on you.”

“I like it, too,” you say while you smooth down your blue dress with the white sash that sits just under your breasts and just over your baby bump, framing it nicely.

“Jane, you are literally the only woman in the world who can make a heavy, last-term pregnancy look fucking stunning.”

You laugh sarcastically at that, reaching up to pinch his cheek.

“Har-har. What a bunch of baloney! You have a specific love for pregnant bellies, you big fat liar.”

“Heh. Fine, fine, you caught me. But you pull off Big-Pregnant-Lady the best. Shall we?” Dirk asks. He offers you his arm and you take it happily before Dirk grabs the labor bag and the two of you head downstairs, out the front door, and to the car.

The drive is very short, since Dave and Rose preferred a private chapel in Washington rather than a big huge one in Seattle or, god forbid, San Francisco. Very few people are there, and they include you, Dirk, Dad, Roxy, and Jake. They have a quiet, non-religious wedding. Neither of them cry, neither of them are dressed fabulously. Yet all you can see as Dave slips the ring on Rose’s finger is love and a deep, brotherly-sisterly bond that you don’t know if you can ever fathom. Your dad cries, and Roxy gets a little weepy. You’re just so very happy for the both of them and you can’t stop thinking about the moment when it’ll be you and Dirk standing up at the altar. Dirk seems to echo your thoughts as he takes your hand in his and holds it nice and tight.

After that, it becomes a free-for-all. Dave changes out of his dress shirt and slacks and puts on a ridiculous wedding dress (including pearly white pumps, panties, stockings, a garter belt, and a flower crown) and Rose puts on a pants suit. You never expected any less from those two. Even on one of the most important nights of their lives, they seek to wreak chaos upon those who try so desperately to figure them out and convey their personalities in the media. They all still think Rose is a stone cold bitch without a personality, and that Dave is just a natural born psychopath on drugs. They couldn’t be more wrong, and that simple fact fills Dave and Rose with unabashed glee.

At the reception, which takes place at a massive, rented-out building smack dab in the middle of Seattle, the crowd is booming, the music is loud, and the flashes from the cameras when Dave walks in with his wedding dress is almost blinding. Dirk steers you clear of those flashes, immediately taking you off to a secluded table.

“If they try to photoshop your belly out in the magazines, I’m suing,” he spits, looking furiously over his shoulder. You catch a glimpse of his eyes behind his shades and there’s absolute rage there. Laughing softly, you pat his arm.

“Why would they photoshop that out?”

He whips his head back to you and starts to speak when a reporter and a photographer begin to approach, having been driven away by the crowd of paparazzi surrounding Dave and Rose.

“Dirk Strider, how do you feel about your brother’s wedding?” the reporter presses. More of them are beginning to come now, after getting tons of pictures from Dave and Rose. You’re kind of just surprised right now since you sort of forgot that Dirk is very famous and well-known himself. Dirk tries to guard you as more paparazzi surround him, turning his back to the paparazzi and placing his hands protectively on your belly.

“Dirk Strider, is it true that you are working on a new prototype for the AR program? Dirk, can you give us a smile? Dirk, show us your eyes! Dirk, are the rumors true that you’re using your pregnant girlfriend to hide the fact that you’re gay? Who is she? Jane Crocker, is it true that you had a friend get you pregnant in order to disguise Dirk’s sexuality?”

Overwhelmed and offended by the probing questions, you hide your face but it only fires them up even more, somehow ‘confirming’ the rumors. Flashes of the cameras snap in your face, blinding you, and there’s a ringing in your ears as you feel the baby give a hearty kick to your ribs that has you nearly doubling over. Dirk feels this and is just beginning to whirl around to lay the smack down when there’s a loud whistle. Everyone turns to see Dave, now in nothing but his panties, a bra, and his high heel pumps, hands on his hips and presenting the bulge in his panties quite… proudly. Nearby, Rose stands with her head in her hands. The paparazzi bugging you runs over, just in time for half of Dave’s personal security guards to tackle half of them to the ground. Cameras break everywhere, and somewhere you hear Seth Rogan let out his trademark laugh.

“If you sue we’ll just counter-sue for the harassment of a pregnant woman,” Dave sing-songs, slipping his dress back on. Rose lifts her head, puts her hand on her hip, and nods sagely.

“In fact, if you all don’t leave this instant, we’re suing all of you. We don’t care if you have families.”

With that, the paparazzi scatter like flies, filing out the door. A few take a couple more daring pictures but, after that, it’s all over. Dirk sighs with relief and nods silently to his brother, who salutes him back.

After that, everything is a blast. You take pictures with some of your favorite celebrities and you even get to meet some of Dirk’s personal science friends. Bear Grylls reveals to you that he doesn’t actually drink his own piss (you’re not surprised), and the _Mythbusters_ guys are actually very kind and fun in person, just like they are in their TV show.

Unfortunately, Robert Downey Jr. was unable to make the reception due to filming for the next _Avengers_ movie, but the co-star of _Sherlock Holmes_ , Jude Law, is very happy to meet you and apologizes for Downey Jr.’s absence. You say it’s absolutely fine because, honestly, you hadn’t expected to meet either of them! Mr. Law is happy to take a picture with you and even signs it before telling you that he’ll let Mr. Downey Jr. know that he was missed and see about getting him to come visit you and Dirk some time.

You nearly faint on the spot.

Once you’re thoroughly sated with all of these new autographed pictures that you will cherish forever, Dirk has you sit down and grabs you something to eat. While you wait, you look around to see what your friends are up to.

Roxy is busying herself with the cast of the new _Star Trek_ movies and Emma Watson, just about losing her mind with all of the science and magicky stuff before taking a huge group picture with all of them. Meanwhile, Jake has managed to hunt down Angelina Jolie and is raving to her about her _Lara Croft_ movies. She seems delighted to speak with him despite his over-excitement.

When Dirk returns with a plate of food for the two of you, you sigh with relief and relax as he sits down beside you. He chose the perfect time to take a seat and eat, because for the most part you two are alone and relaxed while everyone else gathers around for the first dance of the bride and groom.

Up on the stage, the band _Washed Up_ gets ready to start playing. Doctor Maryam’s younger sister is ridiculously gorgeous. Gorgeous enough to be mingling with the celebrities, of course, because you hadn’t even been able to pick her out of the crowd until just now. She’s wearing a black dress with jade trim all over it, and it hangs loosely off her body as she takes the mic stand and turns to talk to her two band-mates, a guy on the electric keyboard and another guy on the saxophone.

“That’s Porrim Maryam, I guess,” Dirk speaks up, looking at a small pamphlet on the table. The band even has an official website and everything. Perhaps they’re bigger than you had originally thought. “Guy on the keyboard’s name is Cronus Ampora, and the guy on the sax is Eridan Ampora. Brothers, apparently. That’s pretty cool.”

The band begins to play and you think everyone is surprised at how good they are. Porrim begins with a slow, bluesy song that Dave and Rose dance to (Rose leads, of course) first before some other people join in for the slow song.

You’re just about to say something about it when your father comes barreling in out of nowhere and throws himself down into a chair across from you, palms flat on the table.

“Dirk. Jane. I need your assistance,” he pants. He whips off his fedora and reveals a messy mop of hair. “Please fix my hair.”

You laugh as Dirk stands and fiddles with your dad’s hair a bit, straightening it out and making it look nice. He clears his throat and adjusts his tie, looking around nervously as he does so.

“What’s going on?” you ask. Dad swallows.

“You see… there’s this woman, and she’s a gorgeous thing, about this tall and… and…”

He makes an hourglass shape with his hands and then slaps his own wrists as if condemning himself.

“And I just can’t seem… to muster up the mangrit to talk to her, god I need a smoke,” your dad huffs and puffs, wiping the sweat from his brow and adjusting his tie again.

“What kind of dress is she wearing?” you ask excitedly, happy to see your dad this flustered. He swallows.

“A beautiful green strapless gown, and sandals, and her hair is black and short and perfect, and her skin is… this _beautiful_ shade of olive. She’s Hispanic, you see,” your dad sighs. He looks dreamy for a second before snapping out of it and shaking his head. “But she’s gorgeous, surely she’s a celebrity, I couldn’t possibly get my hopes up!”

“Mister Strider, Miss Crocker!”

You and Dirk both look up as Doctor Rosa Maryam comes bustling over, dressed in a jade green strapless… gown and… sandals…

_Oh._

“Jane, you look positively glowing! How is the baby?” Rosa asks, putting her hands on her hips and smiling brightly.

“She’s… doing fine, Doctor Maryam,” you say slowly. Your dad is awestruck.

“I’ve had all other appointments transferred to other doctors from here on out, and I promise I won’t be taking any trips,” Rosa assures you with a wink.

“Thank you,” Dirk says. “You’re sure you don’t want…?”

“No money, not at all!” Rosa exclaims, waving her hands. “No, no, I’m just overwhelmed with joy that you let my sister play. She and the boys are so excited to meet everyone and get to play for them. Hopefully this will give them some footing in the world of music! But anyway, no, I am more than happy to be completely at the ready for Jane whenever that timer for the oven goes off.”

She chortles at her own joke, then looks to your dad.

“I suppose you must be Mister Crocker, then? Jane’s father?”

She holds out her hand to shake his, but Dad is clutching the table and making a slow, steady wheezing sound, slowly getting higher in pitch until he’s practically vibrating against the table. Rosa frowns.

“Sir? Are you quite alright? You’re showing signs of a fever. I do not wish to be a doctor right now, but I will certainly be yours if you are not feeling well!” Rosa says, leaning in to lay her little hand against your father’s forehead. You inwardly roll your eyes. Even their lame humor and awkward flirting is the same. Truly they’re a match made in heaven.

Your dad seems to think the same as he promptly faints. Rosa gasps sharply.

“He does that a lot,” you sigh. “He hasn’t done this flirting thing in a while.”

Rosa’s eyebrows shoot up.

“Me?” she asks, putting her hand on her chest in amazement. Her cheeks light up. “Oh, oh my, well isn’t this a strange turn of events!”

She actually squirms in front of you. Squirms. This is the same woman who literally hissed at her nurse one day when he came into the room without knocking while you were getting a pelvic exam. This is the same woman who is unafraid to stick her hands into a bloody chest cavity and manually jumpstart a heart back to life. This is the same woman who looks so motherly and sweet and loving all the time, and she’s squirming.

Your father is lying on the floor, dazed out. Same guy who is probably the manliest guy you have ever known.

“They’re perfect for each other. The living definition of ‘father’ and the living definition of ‘mother’,” Dirk whistles. “I can’t believe I never thought of this before.”

“What a twist,” you deadpan. You roll your eyes and haul yourself to your feet so you can try and nudge your father with your foot until he awakens.

“Allow me,” Rosa says, helping your father to his feet and steadying him as he sways back and forth. “Mister Crocker, you are looking a tad woozy, how about we get you checked out?”

He lets out a squeaking laugh and tousles his hair before allowing himself to be bustled off by your doctor.

“I’m speechless,” Dirk says. “Literally fucking speechless.”

You flop down in your chair and shake your head.

“Of all the women in the world. My doctor.”

“It’s almost _too_ ironic.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I call it 'parentshipping'.


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to cherryburlesque for all of her proofing work and her nursing help! She helped me do a lot of research (and it helps that she's a real nurse as well!) and made this chapter as accurate as possible. A round of applause for her!

As you expected, and much to Dirk’s relief, the reception ends without a hitch and everything is just peachy. Dirk buys you ice cream and the two of you spend the remainder of the night watching movies and eating ice cream together. Dirk is still tense because he’s sure you’re going to go into labor at any moment, but right now, the baby is peacefully asleep inside of you and you haven’t felt more relaxed in your life.

So, the bun in the oven continues to bake.

You and Dirk practice breathing together when you start to feel like, yes, this is the final stretch. It’s only a matter of time now as the end of August draws near and the beginning of September waits just around the corner. The baby gets restless and there are a few false alarms throughout the last few days. In fact, one night you’re so sure it’s starting that Dirk drives you to the hospital and everything. An hour later, however, Doctor Maryam gently tells you that it’s a false alarm and to go home and get some rest.

It’s getting infuriating, and Dirk is being downright annoying about the whole thing. You can’t go anywhere in the house without him trailing behind you (as subtly as he can) and making sure you’re alright. However, you know there is nothing you can do to stop it, so you just accept it and go back to what you usually do. You occupy your time with baking and cooking and roasting and anything you can just to keep your mind occupied and your hands busy. You want this pregnancy to be over. You want this pregnancy to be over. You want this pregnancy to be over.

You’re so ridiculously tired all the time it’s getting ridiculous. You spend most of your days sleeping for hours and hours at a time, then your nights up and awake tossing and turning while the baby kicks you to hell and back. Bruised and beaten, you fall into kind of a rut and lay in bed most of the time, crying or eating or sleeping.

At this point, you’re less afraid of giving birth and more afraid of _never_ giving birth to this little devil. You want her out!

On the night of September 1st, your prayers are answered.

Pangs in your abdomen wake you up in the middle of the night. They are very slow, and you get to sleep for about twenty minutes between them, but soon it’s apparent that these aren’t just regular pangs.

At 2:33 AM on September 2nd, the pang that wakes you up tells your instincts that it’s real this time. You sit up partway in the darkness and yawn before reaching over and shaking Dirk’s shoulder.

“Honey,” you murmur, still groggy. “Honey, it’s time.”

“Nnnf?” is his reply.

“Dirk, it’s time to go,” you say. Dirk pauses and suddenly jerks, looking over his shoulder for a moment before jumping out of bed. You switch on the bedside light and stretch languidly while Dirk runs around like a headless chicken, gathering up his clothes and your clothes and the duffel bag. He pulls on his jeans and some mismatched socks and throws his shirt on backwards before stripping you out of your pajamas. You sit on the edge of the bed, sleepily rocking back and forth while Dirk helps you into a fresh pair of underwear and pulls a maternity bra over your head.

“How are you feeling? Does anything hurt? I mean, besides the obvious,” Dirk asks in a slurred rush. Poor honey. He’s so tired. You almost tell him to go back to sleep before you realize what’s actually going on.

“I’m okay,” you murmur, rubbing your eyes and smiling. Dirk pinches his lips together before roughly kissing your forehead.

“Alright. Finish getting dressed. I’ll call Doctor Maryam.”

Dirk hurries off to do just that while you pull on a pair of sweatpants and a nice big t-shirt. Somehow the tightness of the shirt around your midsection comforts you while another pang overtakes your body. You sit back down on the edge of the bed and grip the sheets with one hand while the other hand splays over your tummy.

“Ooooh, ouch,” you groan. Right now it’s a little worse than period cramps maybe, but you know they’re going to get a lot worse soon. You shakily get back to your feet just as Dirk comes back into the room and helps you into a pair of flip-flops.

“Alright, I called her and she’s already there. She’s been fucking spending the night at the hospital waiting for us. Talk about dedicated,” Dirk says. “I called your father, too, he’s on the way. I’m going to wait to call Roxy and Jake until a few hours from now, so they can get some sleep. Are you ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” you say cheerfully. Dirk shoulders the duffel bag and takes your hand with one of his while the other slips around your back to support you. He helps you down the stairs and fusses with you all the way out into the car. It’s sprinkling a little and, in the distance, thunder rumbles as last night’s summer storm passes. Dirk holds an umbrella over your head and bundles you up in the car before hopping in and speeding off.

“Keep breathing and don’t panic, Jane, it’s going to be okay.”

“Dirk, I’m fine.”

“We’re almost there, don’t panic, okay?”

“Dirk, oh my goodness.”

You feel another contraction wash over you and you moan long and low, furrowing your brows to concentrate on sucking in air and exhaling again. Dirk looks like he’s about to break the steering wheel off.

“Fuck, do you need anything? I brought pretzels. Ibuprofen? No wait, shit, why did I bring that, you can’t have that shit while you’re pregnant, god I’m such an idiot,” Dirk hisses, opening the car window and literally tossing the bottle of ibuprofen out. He turns back to you and he’s actually losing it. Dirk Strider is panicking.

“Re. Lax,” you bite out through gritted teeth. The wave of pain passes and you go limp against the seat. “Owwww.”

“Okay,” Dirk sighs. “Alright. Calming down. Freaking out will not help the baby. Freaking out will not help the baby.”

Dirk’s eyes wildly search an intersection as he approaches it.

“Calculating chances of oncoming traffic of the perpendicular degree, calculating speed at which it will be safe to cross without stopping-”

“Dirk!”

Dirk slows to a stop at the intersection as a car zooms by. You glare at him.

“I wasn’t going to do it even if my calculations were in our favor,” he says. “It’s helping me calm down.”

You shake your head and stare out the window as you rub your tummy. Dirk continues to vocally calculate everything, from the raindrops racing on the windshield to the time between contractions. It’s helping you relax as well, so you allow your mind to drift.

Here you are. It’s been a long, long, _long_ nine months, but you’re finally here and so far everything is going right. Two young parents, freshly in love and planning to get married, about to have their first baby. It’s a storybook ending. Ahh, yes. You’re ready for this chapter of your life to end and to begin a new one. Raising a baby girl with Dirk. The thought makes you smile and it gets you through the next contraction without much pain. You reach over and put your hand on Dirk’s thigh. He glances at you and you smile back. His shoulders visibly slump.

“I love you,” he says. His hand leaves the steering wheel for a moment to squeeze yours. His palms are sweaty. By the way they’re shaking, you think his knees are weak.

And perhaps his arms are spaghetti.

But there isn’t vomit on his sweater already-

You stop thinking about Eminem and shake your head as Dirk pulls into the hospital parking lot. Doctor Maryam is waiting under the awning at the entrance with a wheelchair at the ready.

“I love you too,” you say just as Dirk gets out of the car, rushes around, and pulls the door open. Doctor Maryam helps you out of the car and into the seat of the wheelchair before turning to Dirk.

“Go ahead and park the car. We’re going to be in room 413A. It’s on the fourth floor of the hospital,” Doctor Maryam instructs. Dirk nods once and drives off while Maryam wheels you into the building. “How are you feeling, Miss Crocker?”

“About as good as a woman going into labor can get!” you giggle. You lean back and rub your belly while another contraction claims you. You groan, but honestly the pain isn’t that bad. “It just started. The contractions are maybe twenty minutes apart?”

“Oh, hun,” Maryam laughs. “With the way Mister Strider was panicking over the phone, I thought your water had broken or something. You could’ve spent this part at home! You’re only in the first phase of labor. Would you like to spend this part in the hospital or would you like to go home?”

“No, we can stay here,” you say. “Honestly being at the ready comforts me more than being far away from the hospital. Don’t tell Dirk I said that.”

“My lips are sealed,” Maryam says cheerfully. “Well, I hope you brought something to do, because it’s going to be a long time before this ball gets rolling.”

“Dirk brought his laptop and a lot of movies with him,” you say.

“Perfect!”

Maryam wheels you into the room and has you lay down on a comfy hospital bed, where she raises the front of it so your back is supported.

“Alright. My nurse should be wheeling the birthing table in here in a bit,” Maryam says, writing a few things on a clipboard. “He’s going to ask you a few questions, then you are free to sleep or rest or whatever you’d like. Have you already contacted your father?”

“Yes. He’s on the way,” you say. Maryam’s lips upturn a little bit and a bit of pink dusts her cheeks.

“Then I will bring a cot in here for him as well. Now, since I am a private doctor for Dirk, there are a few… strings I can pull here and there, so if you need anything at all, let me know,” Maryam says. You nod. “Alright? Then I’m going to do some paperwork and have some coffee. The nurses will be monitoring you throughout the rest of the night, okay?”

“I hear you loud and clear,” you say. Dirk comes in at that moment, sees you in the bed, and lifts a brow.

“She’s giving birth on that?”

Maryam smiles and looks over her shoulder as Dirk approaches.

“She’s only in the first phase of labor, Mister Strider. It’ll be a good long while before she’s ready to give birth.”

“Oh.”

“’Oh’ is right!” you exclaim. “Stop panicking, Dirk, you silly man.”

“You were the one who woke me up saying ‘it’s time’,” Dirk counters. You smile sheepishly and he goes to you, taking your hand in his and kissing your knuckles.

“Here’s a chair,” Maryam says gently, sliding a beige folding chair to Dirk. “But that bed will certainly support two people.”

Dirk immediately slips out of his shoes and jacket before crawling up into the bed with you. He lowers the head of the bed so you’re both lying almost flat. Maryam just smiles fondly before silently dimming the lights and leaving the room.

“Hi,” Dirk murmurs.

“Hi,” you reply. He strokes a lock of hair out of your face.

“How long apart are they?”

“Maybe twenty minutes, more or less.”

“Are they really hurting yet?”

“No, not really. It’s pretty mild. Enough to make me stop what I’m doing to hold my belly, that’s for sure!”

You chortle as you hear the door open again.

“Jane?’

You look up and smile as your dad comes into the room, looking rather tired.

“Hi, Daddy. Sorry we woke you up.”

“Is it another false alarm?”

“No, it’s real this time. But we came to the hospital too early. They’re just going to monitor me and wait until I go into the second phase.”

Dad lets out a long sigh and goes to you, where he kisses your forehead. He even rubs Dirk’s shoulder and squeezes.

“I’m happy that it’s happening. How do you feel, sweetpea?”

“Like a million bucks,” you giggle, letting your father ruffle your hair. “You should ask Doctor Maryam out on a date. Your pregnant, child-birthing daughter ought to be a really good icebreaker.”

Dad lightly smacks your shoulder while you laugh, then adjusts his tie.

“Enough of that, Missy. Miss Maryam is a hard working woman and deserves your utmost respect and professionalism!”

“Yes, yes, I know! Jeez, Dad.”

“…But yes, I think I shall speak to her privately after all this is over. Even in a doctor’s coat she is positively radiant,” Dad says. He fans himself. “Oh my, I’m getting flustered again. Jane, my darling, your old man’s having heart palpitations, may I take a seat?”

“Of course.”

Dad flops down in the beige folding chair and looks up at the ceiling for a bit, shaking his head slightly.

“I have not yearned for a woman this much since your mother.”

“I think you should go for it, Dad,” you say. You reach out and kinda wave your hand awkwardly at him until he reaches out as well and squeezes it.

“It’s not strange for you?” Dad asks. “She appears to be much younger than me. She doesn’t have grey hairs and she doesn’t look a day over thirty-five. She’s your doctor and a very trusted individual in your life. I do not wish to impose on that.”

“I want you to be happy with the woman of your dreams,” you say firmly. “I don’t care who she is. Okay, perhaps I’d care if it was Roxy or something, but only because she wouldn’t suit you too well. She’s a little too rough-housey and wild for you.”

“Very true,” your dad chuckles softly. “Alright, dear. If you insist, I shall not be rude and decline your suggestion!”

You smile and open your mouth to say more when a contraction slowly builds inside of you. Whimpering, you mumble an apology as you curl in on yourself a little. Dirk holds you close but not tightly, soothingly rubbing your belly as your muscles lock up and tense and ache. A minute later, the contraction passes, but it leaves you a little breathless.

“Golly I want this baby out,” you mutter. Dirk kisses you in response.

“Get some sleep,” Dad says softly. “I can keep watch.”

“Hush up with that,” you say at the same time Dirk says “Bullshit.”

“Well, what do you suggest I do?”

Just as he speaks, the door opens and Maryam comes in, tugging a cot behind her. She spots Dad and smiles.

“Oh. Hello there, Mister Crocker. It’s a pleasure to see you again.”

In the dim lights you can see the pink blush on her cheeks. Dad immediately stands and takes off his hat before putting it upon his chest in a sign of respect.

“Salutations, Miss Maryam.”

“I brought a cot for you so you can sleep in here. I hope you don’t mind the occasional bumping around of the nurses?”

“Of course not,” Dad says. He helps Maryam lower the cot onto the floor and fluff up the pillows. They keep sharing little glances and your dad keeps letting out these wheezing laughs while Maryam bats her eyelashes and looks away bashfully.

They are a genuine 50s-style couple, you swear.

Finally, Maryam clears her throat, shakes her head, and returns to business. She checks the machine you’re connected to, making sure your heart-rate is fine, and asks you a few questions. After that, you, Dirk, and your father rest. The nurse wheels in the birthing table about an hour later and wakes you up to ask you some questions before dimming the lights once more and letting you sleep a little longer.

Sleep, however, slowly begins to elude you.

The next twelve hours are pretty long and awful, with your contractions getting progressively worse with each passing moment. Soon, not even movies are enough to keep you distracted, and the time between contractions shortens considerably until the lingering pain doesn’t even get a chance to fade before they start up again.

“Oooo _oohhhh_!” you cry. You’re on your hands and knees on the bed, burying your face in the pillow as Doctor Maryam braces your hips. Tears prickle at the corner of your eyes and slip down as you let out a moan of pain. “Hurry up, you blasted little demon!”

Everyone chuckles softly but you’re in no laughing mood. You want this baby out right friggin’ now! Now!

“Is she ready yet?” Dirk asks. He’s been pacing the room since noon, his hair is a mess, and his face is pretty splotchy with nervousness.

“As soon as her water breaks. Remember you came in quite early during her first phase. Labor doesn’t just start with the water breaking. Now, if it takes too long, we can always induce-”

Just as she speaks, there’s a literal shift inside of you and a subsequent gush of fluids. You look over your shoulder with a wild look in your eye.

“Oh look there it is. Let’s get this _darn_ thing out now, shall we?”

“Perfect!” Maryam says, clapping her hands together as the nurse rushes forward to wipe away the fluids and help you onto your back. “Let’s get you over to the birthing table. Now, would you like some drugs to help the pai-”

“Yes, yes, gods yes,” you snap as the nurses help you off the bed and onto the birthing table. Another contraction claims you and it’s probably ten times more intense than the last ones now that your water has finally broken. You arch your back and pinch your lips shut to hold back a scream. This one lasts a good two minutes before you slump against the table, absolutely exhausted. How the heck are you supposed to push this bloody thing out when the contractions have you wanting to pass out?!

“Holy shit you are so strong,” Dirk murmurs, brushing a lock of sweaty hair off of your face. You give him a grimace.

“Dirk? Kindly shut your pie hole.”

“Jane I’m so proud of you-”

“Shut up, Dad.”

You clutch their hands as you focus on breathing. This is absolutely insane. Nothing could have prepared you for this. The contractions are unbearable, absolutely unbearable, and soon you’re going to be expected to push?! You can’t do this!

“Yeah you can, Jane, you’re a fucking trooper,” Dirk says. You didn’t know you had said that out loud. You look up at Dirk and he grins back down at you. The doctors administer the drugs and there’s an instant rush of euphoria as the pain backs down immensely. It’s still there, of course, it is still the worst pain in the world, but at least now you don’t feel like you’re on the verge of exploding into a million Janey pieces.

“Mmmn yeah that’s the stuff,” you groan, tipping your head back. Another contraction has you writhing in agony and trying to roll over on your side while the nurses hold you back. “Hoooooooly _mooooooly!_ ”

“Alright Jane, I’m going to put your legs in the stirrups now,” Maryam announces, now donned in a pair of gloves and a face mask. She helps your legs up into the stirrups and pushes them back so you’re wide open and ready.

“I’m going to call the others now,” Dad says. He briefly presses a kiss to your forehead before bustling out of the room with his cell phone. A nurse takes his place and grabs your hand.

“Can I start pushing yet?” you ask a bit impatiently.

“Congratulations, Jane, you’re fully dilated now. The drugs might dull it a little bit, so I will tell you when a good time to push is, but as soon as you feel the urge, go for it!” Maryam says.

“Oh I feel the urge. The urge to shove this little prick out!” you bark down at your vagina. “Stop terrorizing Mommy you little- _oooooh!_ ”

“Alright Jane, we’re going to get started. Are you ready to get this thing out?” Maryam asks, her voice peppy and encouraging. Somehow, despite your directionless fury and aggressiveness, it helps. You take a deep breath and let loose a shove. This, added onto the pain of the contraction, makes you let out a squeaking yelp. When you can’t push for another second, you moan and flop back down on the table. Maryam nods. “That was a good push, Jane, think you could push a little harder next time?”

You’re too busy breathing and huffing and puffing to give a straight answer, so you just deliriously wobble your head and pant. Dirk’s face is white but his mouth and eyebrows are scrunched up and he’s breathing hard through his nose, squeezing your hand just as hard as you’re squeezing his.

“Stop looking so serious, you doofus, you’re not the one giving birth,” you scold. Dirk chokes out a laugh.

“If I could hop in your body and help you push, I would. I hate feeling helpless.”

You lift his hand and shake it in front of his eyes.

“You’re not helpless. This is all I need, right here… ohh, golly, here comes another!”

“Okay Jane, get ready, get ready, and- push push push push push!” Maryam chants while you hiss through your teeth and curl in on yourself. When it’s over, you go limp and cry a little. This is so intense you can hardly stand it.

A slow half hour passes. During this time, Roxy and Jake arrive, along with Dave and Rose. They all want to come in to see you, but the nurses only permit one extra person in at a time. Your father and Dirk are the only ones who stay in, no questions asked, supporting you and making things so much easier.

“Nurse,” Maryam says after a second. She murmurs something to him and lowers her head. “Call in the others. Quickly.”

“What, what’s wrong?” you pant. You’re so tired. So, so tired. You want to be done. You don’t want this to last any longer. Maryam doesn’t answer you, and instead stands and takes off her gloves and mask. She gives her hands a quick rinse just as a platoon of other nurses rush in. Suddenly everyone’s running around everywhere saying medical jargon you don’t understand, you’re so confused.

“What the fuck is going on?” Dirk asks, frustrated with their lack of acknowledgement. Still they don’t answer, too preoccupied with what looks like some sort of medical emergency. You hear something about ‘shoulder’ and ‘pelvis’ and you look up just in time for all the color to drain from your father’s face.

“Jane, do not push,” Maryam says sharply, all the encouragement and peppiness gone from her voice in an instant. She puts her hands on your belly and feels around before turning and saying something to a nurse, pointing. The nurse runs out. “Jane. You cannot push.”

The urge comes again. The mixture of drugs and your primal urges stop you from listening to reason. Your only thought process is that you need to get this baby out right now or else-

You push and the subsequent sound of the nurses yelling at you to stop is so confusing and you don’t know what’s going on, but you know that now your dad and Dirk are yelling at you to stop too and there’s something coming from your vagina, something warm, and a nurse is there and he’s turning to the doctors and yelling something about hemorrhaging, everything is going so darn fast and you don’t know what’s going on, it’s all becoming a blur of colors and sound and you can feel it, you can feel your head tipping back and the beeping of the heart rate monitor slowing down considerably, and you still feel something wet and warm dribbling down to the birthing table below you and dripping to the floor, and only when you’re being rushed out of the room by five yelling nurses and ripped out of Dirk’s hand do you see that the puddle on the floor is blood, and everything just gets slow slow slow after that and you can hardly feel your fingers or your toes and a strange, silent cold drops over you like a blizzard’s blanket and- 

* * *

 

==> 

* * *

 

Your name is Dirk Strider and this is the worst day of your life. 


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to cherryburlesque for proofing work.

“Everything was going _fine!_ ”

Your fist slams against the tiles of the bathroom.

“Dirk.”

“…Hey, chum, come on.”

“Son.”

You glance up as Mister Crocker puts his hand on your shoulder and squeezes. He looks tired as fuck, and you’re sure you don’t look too great, either.

“I need to tell you all something. Come with me.”

You, Jake, Dave, and Crocker all leave the men’s bathroom, where you find Roxy and Rose looking worried and hugging each other in the lobby. They look up as the lot of you approach. Crocker claps his hands together.

“When Jane was born the same thing happened to her mother,” Crocker says slowly. “It’s called shoulder dystocia. I’ll never forget it. It’s when a woman’s pelvis is too small to pass the baby’s shoulders through. They had to ask Jane to stop pushing because pushing could cause severe trauma to both the baby and the mother. And, as you saw, Dirk, could cause severe hemorrhaging. It uh… it almost killed my wife when it happened to her. Luckily, Jane was a very small baby and she made it out all right. However, Jane is even more petite than her mother was. I do not wish to instill fear in all of you, but I do not wish to lie, either.”

Overwhelmed, you flop down in an armchair and put your head in your hands while Roxy puts a hand over her mouth and Rose goes completely expressionless save for a haunted look in her eye. Jake whistles and paces, running his hands through his hair; Crocker takes off his hat and thumbs the brim.

“How can Jane even be petite,” Roxy asks suddenly, wiping at the tears in her eyes. “She’s a bigger woman! I thought, of all people… I mean…”

“Her bone structure isn’t the same as her weight,” Crocker says. You shake your head and lean back in your chair, shutting your eyes and wishing you were anywhere else but here. When you look upon everyone else again, they’re all looking at you.

“What the fuck are you looking at me for?” you hiss. Everyone kind of looks away or averts their eyes. “No, honestly, what the fuck?”

You get to your feet and Roxy starts hiccupping and crying while her mother soothes her.

“What the fuck is wrong? You think it’s my fault?”

“No, for god’s sake!” Jake exclaims. You whirl and point your finger at him.

“You could’ve stopped this, so it’s your fault, you should’ve been with Jane, not me, because only I could fuck something up this bad!” you bark. Jake holds up his hands in surrender. Your brother grabs you and shoves you back into your seat.

“Shut the hell up, Bro,” Dave says gruffly. His shades are nowhere to be found and it makes you uncomfortable. “It’s nobody’s fucking fault. Stop being a little bitch.”

“I got drunk, I didn’t read the date correctly, I fucked up, I got her pregnant, and I let her keep the fucking demon!” you yell. “This is my fucking fault! She’s going to die because of me!”

Roxy sobs and begins to wail and Crocker gets this look of utter agony on his face as he looks at you with tight lips and angry eyes.

“You take that back,” he croaks. “My princess is not going to die in there.”

Crocker wipes ferociously at his eyes and gives a sniffle before sobbing and clutching the front of his shirt. He’s always been a weepy man, but there is not an ounce of joking or joy behind the ragged, rickety sobs that tear themselves from his chest. He looks old, he’s hunched over, hardly able to keep himself standing as he crushes his fedora against his chest. His hands look like they’re gripping for anything to hold; a hand, a thigh, the arm of a chair, even. But there isn’t anything to hold. There isn’t a single thing left in his world to hold, because the very last person in his family has her life on the line in the emergency room.

Two lives on the line.

You stand and you go to your soon-to-be(?) father-in-law and you hold him. You embrace the shit out of him and he slumps against you and grips you tight. He’s feebler than you imagined him to be. All this time you imagined some beefy dude with a grip like a vice, especially after that punch he gave you in the jaw. But right now it’s like you’re holding onto a shaking frame of a man who has lost so much more than he has ever deserved.

This man, who has probably been the strongest out of all of you despite losing the love of his life and now on the verge of losing his daughter, is nothing but skin and bones. You clutch him against you as tightly as you can and bury your face in his shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I’m so sorry.”

“Mister Strider?”

You look up just in time to see a nurse coming towards you, a clipboard tucked under his arm. Paling, you go to him, but despite your fear a sick hope clings to your heart, please let her be alright, please let her be alright.

“How is she?” you ask the second you get there. The nurse takes a breath, then tries and fails to look you in the eyes. He instead looks at his keyboard.

“We’re doing everything that we can. We’re… Mister Strider, we’re unsure if we can save both of them.”

You feel like you’re going to hurl.

“Do whatever you can to save her. Both of them,” you finally croak. The nurse nods once, gives you a sympathetic pat, and turns to leave. When you turn back to the group, they’re all staring at you expectantly. You can’t handle this. Your legs feel like jelly as you wobble back to them. “Uh… they’re doing everything they can. They said they don’t know if they can save both of them.”

Everyone is dead silent as the reality of the situation sinks in. You don’t know who to hate right now. All you know is that there is anger inside of you, an uncontrollable rage. Who is the one trying to rip Jane away from you forever? Not Jane’s dad. Not you. Not the doctors.

The baby is trying to take her away. The baby who you talked to, who you loved so god damn dearly, who meant the entire world to you. And now she’s paying you back by killing the woman you love. Your hands curl into fists.

“Dude,” Dave says suddenly. “I know what you’re thinking, and that’s not the way to fucking go in this situation. Not fucking cool.”

“What are you talking about?” Crocker asks. His voice is small and it makes your gut wrench. You’re not the only one losing a loved one because of this hell spawn. Dave narrows his eyes at you.

“He’s blaming the baby.”

“What the fuck, Dirk?” Roxy blurts between tears. Jake curses and paces around the room again, restlessly bouncing. Crocker looks like he’s going to be sick, and Rose has nothing to say.

“There’s no one to blame,” Dave says. “You did everything you could.”

“And despite all that, things still went wrong,” you snarl. “I packed everything, I thought of everything, I made the calculations, everything was going just fine, I was prepared, I was prepared for _anything!_ So why does this have to fucking happen?”

“Fate can be a bitch sometimes,” Rose says quietly. “Anything that can go wrong _will_ go wrong. Even things out of your control.”

“I-”

Everyone looks up as a nurse bursts through the double doors of the ICU, a tired and broken smile on her face.

“The baby is safe,” she announces breathlessly. Roxy shrieks and Jake throws a fist in the air. Crocker puts a hand to his heart and sits down while Dave grins and Rose lets out a sigh of relief. But you’re in no celebrating mood.

“What about Jane? How is she?”

The nurse’s smile stays but all of the genuine happiness in it fades, leaving it empty. She stares down at her clipboard and taps her fingernails against it.

“Ahh… Mister Strider, may I speak to you alone?”

Your heart seizes as she pulls you off to the side. With a deep breath, she shakes her head.

“After… the baby was born, all of the fight went out of her. She is currently on life support but her vitals are failing,” the nurse says. She looks up apologetically at Dirk. “I’m sorry, Mister Strider. We have done all we could. We have put her into a medically induced coma in hopes that her body will repair itself, but chances of her pulling through are very slim. I’m sorry.”

“Where is Doctor Maryam?” you ask. Your voice isn’t its own. It sounds robotic. The nurse pinches her lips together.

“I will get her for you.”

The nurse walks away and you stand where you are, refusing to face your friends and family again. You can’t find the strength in your legs to move. You don’t even look up right away when you feel Doctor Maryam’s presence, but after a moment of collecting yourself, you bring yourself to look at her.

She looks horrible and haunted and her hands shake as she clasps your shoulders.

“I will leave this country if you wish. And delete my records. I’ll understand if you can’t forgive me,” she says. You shake your head.

“Stop that. It’s not your fault,” you say. Maryam straightens and she looks away. Her makeup is smudged and smeared and her eyes are bright red.

“I cannot face her father,” she says. “Not because of our current relationship but because it is always difficult to face the family of someone who is dying.”

You want to throw up so bad but you’re not sure you can even muster up the strength to do that.

“The baby?” you ask. Maryam sighs.

“We did not have to break her collarbone to get her out, but we almost did. We whisked her off to make sure her vitals were alright. She’s just fine, Dirk. Her shoulder and arm are probably pretty sore, but she’s just fine,” Maryam whispers. Tears start falling down her cheeks and she smiles at you as she shakes her head. “She’s so beautiful. The most beautiful baby I’ve ever seen.”

You aren’t too keen on sharing the sentiment.

“I think she’s fine enough for you to see her, now. Would you like to see the baby?” Maryam asks. You open your mouth and shut it again, unsure of how to respond. Finally, you cast your eyes downwards and give a curt nod. Maryam leads you out of the room, away from your friends and family, leaving them clueless as to what’s going on. You can’t face them. You can never face them. When you see the baby you’re going to run away and you’re never going to look back. You’ll change your name and you’ll dump the fucking parasite in Jane’s dad’s hands and he can take care of the grandchild who killed his only daughter. It’s a plan. As you walk, you plot, and by the time you get to the nursery, you have a fully-formed plan in your head.

Maryam disappears into the nursery for a moment and comes back with a bundle in her arms wrapped in a pink blanket. You stare coldly at it. How much force would it take to crush it in your arms?

Maryam places it gently in your outstretched arms and you look down at its face for the first time. She’s like every other baby. She’s got kinda splotchy skin and wrinkles and a double chin. Her eyes are closed. Yes, just like every other newborn.

But she’s yours.

Your arms tighten around her, but not because you want to crush her. They tighten because you’re overwhelmed with a sudden need to protect her and to hold her tight and to apologize, apologize, apologize.

Because you’re an evil man who honestly thought about killing this innocent bundle on more than one occasion.

You sit right on the ground and you lean against the wall as you hold that little baby (seven pounds, four ounces) in your arms and cradle her fuzzy head in your hand. She’s got a wispy little tuft of brown hair right on her head and it sticks straight up and looks ridiculous, but all you can do is cry.

You cry right there on the floor of the hospital while Maryam stands beside you, head lowered and her hands clasped together. Around you, life goes on. Nurses and doctors bustle around, patients are wheeled by in wheelchairs, and new fathers and grandparents peer into the window of the nursery to get a glimpse of the new addition to their families. All of this happens while everything around you falls apart except for you and this tiny body in your arms, pure beauty shining up from her slumbering face.

“Callie,” you murmur. Maryam looks down at you.

“Does that name have special meaning to you?” she asks.

“No. I just think it’s perfect for her. Callie. But Jane might not like it, so I’ll discuss it with her later,” you croak. “Do you know how long she has, Miss Maryam?”

Maryam is silent for a long while.

“Dirk I’m going to be honest with you, but only because it is my sworn duty as a private doctor to do so,” Maryam says. “We’re all surprised she has made it this far. She was a trooper all the way up to the end. She didn’t give up until the baby was safely born. She will not last through the night, Dirk.”

You swallow.

“Can I see her?”

“Yes. I will tell her family and everyone else the news. And I will bring Callie to them. I know… I know your father will need this right now.”

You reluctantly hand your daughter to Maryam and watch as she walks away with her before a nurse swings by to take you to Jane’s room.

It’s quiet save for the dangerously slow beeping of her heart rate monitor.

“Jane,” you sigh. You sit down in a metal folding chair beside her bed and take her hand, careful to avoid the tubes sticking out of her inner elbow and running down her arm. “Hey, baby.”

She doesn’t respond, of course. You rub her body through the sheets and smile as your hand passes over her deflated tummy.

“God you’re so beautiful,” you say. You reach up to stroke her cheek. “I love you so much, Jane. I-”

Wait.

You tense up suddenly as a wave of déjà vu passes over you, so strong that it makes your heart pound and your head go woozy. For a long time you just sit there as you try and try to remember why this feels so familiar. Why on earth does the memory of leaning over Jane’s dead (or dying, in this case) body give you the chills?

“What the fuck,” you whisper. Licks and grazes of memories flood into you like a cascade, sending you reeling. Panting, you stand from your chair and stumble to the nearest wall, which you lean against.

At home, the mobile above the crib

keeps

on

spinning,

the life symbol glints and glints in your memories, why did you paint those? Why those shapes?

_Hello Dirk._

You jump violently and look around in shock. Nobody is in the room except for you and Jane. That wasn’t Jane’s voice. It was a female voice, but not Jane’s. You look up at the ceiling.

“Hello?”

_I’m not with you, but right now you have to listen to me._

“Who are you?”

_…My name is Calliope._

“Calliope?” you echo. “Why does that sound so familiar…?”

_That is not important. For now, you need to listen to me! We are old friends, but you do not remember me. So I’m begging you, Dirk. You need to trust me now, okay?_

You stare straight ahead for a long while before you glance over your shoulder at Jane, who is still and nearly lifeless on her hospital bed.

“…I’m listening.”

_Long ago, in a different universe, you and your friends played a game. In fact, eight of you played a game! You, Jake, Jane, Roxy, your brother, Roxy’s mother, Jake’s grandma, and Jane’s grandpa, all of you played. You went through a lot of hardships, you lost many friends. But you battled long and hard, and you won the game. You won the game and you, along with all of your alien friends met along the way, created a new universe. A new reality in which you could live in peace. Together as one race._

_Memories of the game were painful. So painful, in fact, many of you committed suicide in order to stop the voices of those you had lost. Even if the ones you had lost were brought back to life, you all still heard the voices of those who had died, the screams of those who suffered!_

_I could not bear to watch my friends carry that burden on their shoulders. After you all defeated my brother, my evil twin, I inherited his powers and became both the Lord of Time and the Muse of Space. With this newfound power, I could create alternate realities._

_Dirk, I have created every reality in which you live in happiness, with your memory wiped of all traces of the game. I have created and recreated your reality many times without your knowledge. Every time there was death or irreversible heartache, I turned back time to prevent it from happening. I reset your universe and tweaked the details so you could all be happy. Together._

_You and your friends and family forever hold me in your debt. I will continue to make your universe one of utmost joy and happiness. I will never let you suffer. I will dedicate my entire life and my entire being to make sure that the universe in which you live is happy. All because you all gave up so much to win against my brother. All because you and your friends, despite who I was, what I looked like, you were all my friends._

_That is why all of your lives are perfect._

Your head is pounding so bad that you have to sit down beside Jane again. This is bullshit. This has got to be some sort of crazy fucking dream.

_Do you remember the rule, Dirk? A hero cannot die unless their death is heroic or just. And it just so happens that Jane’s death will be neither of those. That and, of course, Jane is Maid of Life, after all._

You shake your head and put your elbows on the edge of the bed before burying your face in your hands. This can’t be happening. This can’t be real.

_I’m going to reset your universe now, Dirk. This is now a doomed timeline. I’m going to create a timeline where every last detail is the same. Every word you ever spoke, every thought you ever thought, and every time you blinked… it’ll all be the same. Except for one tiny, tiny detail. I’m going to make sure Jane’s body is capable to pass the child. I’m going to make you happy again, and then you’ll forget that all of this heartache ever happened. All you have to do is trust me. Trust me, Dirk._

_Pull the plug._

You look up at the ceiling for a moment, then back down at Jane. You look to the plug, then her face, then the plug and…

You reach down.

You wrap your fingers around the plug because there is nothing else for you to hope for. You have no other choice.

You yank.

Quite suddenly, everything around you stretches and convulses and you’re suddenly rushing back, back, all of the words you spoke in the last two hours are being swallowed back up in your lips, the baby is in your arms, back in the nursery, you’re walking backwards down the hall faster than possible, you’re hugging your soon-to-be father-in-law, you’re in the men’s bathroom, now you’re in the birthing room, the blood rushing out of Jane is disappearing, the look of horror on the faces of the nurses are disappearing, the smile is returning to Maryam’s eyes.

Your eyes snap open and…

“She’s crowning!”

Your name is Dirk Strider, and you’re about to be a father of a beautiful baby girl. 

* * *

 

==> 

* * *

 

A lone green figure sits down upon the dust of the moon, smiling serenely as she gazes down upon her earthlings, the result of her creation. Behind her, beautiful white wings stretch and flutter as she folds her claws together.

“A strange and supernatural twist?” she asks softly. “Or just a fever dream brought on by the nervousness of a jittery father-to-be who hasn’t had enough sleep? You decide, my friends. Whichever makes you happiest.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to hold true to what Calliope said. As the author I officially declare the events of this chapter and the end of last chapter a big 'maybe'. You want the story to stay a complete AU? Choose the 'Fever Dream' route. Want the story to have a supernatural twist? Choose the 'Reset Universe' route. Whatever you choose is canon.
> 
> (laughing maniacally in the distance)


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I appreciate all of your positive responses! I'm very glad you enjoyed the little plot twist!
> 
> However, it seems some of you may have misinterpreted what I said last chapter. You can think of it as either a fever dream or a supernatural twist, either choice is canon. I plan on continuing the fic normally, and then your own interpretation applies for just chapter 26 and 27. Sorry for the misunderstanding! uwu
> 
> Special thanks to cherryburlesque for proofing work.

==> Oh god please be Jane Crocker I can’t take the suspense!

 

What? You can’t ‘be’ Jane Crocker because you _are_ Jane Crocker, and right now you are in a _tremendous_ amount of pain. Meanwhile, your fiancé seems to have zoned out. He’s such a silly man, probably dreaming up of ways this entire thing could go wrong!

“She’s crowning!”

“Woooo!” you cheer. That seems to break Dirk out of his trance. Nearby, Roxy laughs.

“Welcome back to the world of the living, Dirk!” she teases.

“Wha…?” Dirk asks. He shakes his head. “Holy shit I am so tired, I just had the most fucked up dream ever.”

“Yes, after this, you can take all of the naps,” you pant. “ _Ohhhh!_ ”

“Come on Jane, when you’re ready, give one more big push! You’re almost there!” Maryam encourages.

“Diiiiiirk,” you moan. You tip your head back against the birthing table and shake your head at him. He grins down at you. “I can’t believe you actually fell asleep during this.”

“I’m just really tired.”

“I know, love. But she’s almost here… I-I’m… nnn,” you groan. You get the urge to push and your entire body convulses as you give a great big huge shove. “Ahh, _ahhhh!_ ”

There’s a sliding sensation between your legs, a sharp smack, and the sound of a baby’s cries fill the room. Your father is weeping and crying about how proud he is of you while he blows his nose loudly, Roxy’s jumping up and down, Jake whoops and hollers, and Dave pulls Rose in for a kiss and an embrace. The nurses all clap and congratulate you while you go limp on the birthing table and cry with relief.

“Finally!” you gasp.

“Who wants to do the honors of cutting the cord?” Maryam asks, toweling the wailing baby off. Dirk grimaces.

“Gonna leave that to Papa Crocker. I must say that all that birth stuff grosses me out.”

“Oh, you big pansy,” you scold as your father gladly snips the cord with the scissors he’s offered. “Oh hey, what about the placent-”

Just as you speak, your body gives another shudder and you expel the afterbirth. Roxy shrieks in horror (apparently she hadn’t been expecting that) and Jake laughs heartily, throwing an arm around Roxy and letting her hide against his chest.

“I guess that answers that question. Now, for the best part of childbirth,” Maryam says. She stands and brings the newborn to you. Weakly, you stretch out your arms and take her, holding her close.

“Awww,” you coo at the splotchy, wrinkly little thing. Your dad has the camera on now and is filming you holding the baby while the newborn whimpers and scrunches up her face. Dirk just laughs.

“She looks like an ugly little sausage,” he snickers.

“Hush, you. You have no appreciation for our little bundle of joy. Look at how little she is! She’s so beautiful,” you say. “And look at her cute hair, oh my goodness.”

You giggle as you twirl the baby’s hair in your finger. It’s still a little wet from the birthing fluids. Dirk just gives a tired smile and flops his head down onto your shoulder. You kiss the top of his head.

“I had such a weird dream,” he says. “But I can’t remember it for the life of me.”

“You were probably dreaming about robots or something, you ridiculous man,” you say. He lifts his head and blinks at you while he smiles dazedly.

“You’re probably right.”

“I don’t mean to impose, but doesn’t the grandpa have baby holding rights after the parents?” Dad pouts. You look up at him, surprised, then laugh.

“Jeez-o-petes. Fine. I’m so exhausted I can’t even lift my arms! Take her from me.”

Dirk takes the camera and films as everyone gets a turn holding the baby and cooing at her. Jake blows a raspberry on her tummy and makes her cry again, which in turn causes Dirk to tape himself beating the snot out of Jake while Rose calmly shooshes the baby.

“And for the guest of honor,” Dirk says once the baby is safely returned to your arms. He zooms the camera in really close to her face. “How does it feel being in the real world, you little sausage? Sucks, doesn’t it. Yeah, I wish I was back in Jane’s vagina, too.”

“Dirk!”

Everyone laughs while the baby whines and wrinkles her face.

“Do you have any ideas for names?” Maryam asks. You and Dirk pause and look at each other.

“Oh, bugger,” you say with a nervous laugh. Dirk waves his hands.

“No, listen to this. I dreamed up the perfect name earlier. Wait for it.”

Everyone waits.

“Laquisha.”

Everyone bursts into protests at the same time while Dirk laughs.

“Hey, wait!” Roxy cries, silencing everyone. “Dude, how about ‘Callie’? I think that is, like, the cutest name ever. And it’s nice and short and sweet.”

“Oooh,” you say, looking up at Dirk and nodding. “I like that! It’s got a nostalgic feel to it, doesn’t it?”

“Yes. I can dig that,” Dirk says. “Little Callie Crocker. Heh.”

“Callie Strider,” you correct. Dirk clucks his tongue.

“That doesn’t have a ring to it.”

“Oh, hush.”

“Callie it is,” Dirk says. You smile up at him as he leans down to kiss his new daughter’s forehead. Maryam nods and gestures to a nurse, who quickly writes the name down on a piece of paper on his clipboard.

“You haven’t held her yet,” you say. “C’mon. Hold her, Dirk.”

“Yeah, don’t be a douche, Dirk,” Roxy pipes in. Dirk gives her a look, hands off the camera to Dad, and scoops the baby up in his arms. He gives her a scrutinizing look at first.

Then she hiccups and you can literally pinpoint the exact moment his heart cracks in half. Everyone laughs while Dad tapes Dirk sitting down in the beige folding chair and cradling the baby close to him, bringing her up to kiss her forehead.

“Alright, everyone, I hate to break this up, but it’s time for us to go and get the baby checked to be sure she’s functioning properly and is nice and clean,” Maryam says, shooing out the extra guests with a wave of her hands. “And I’m sure you two would like a nap.”

“Ohhh yes,” you say with a nod. The prospect of a nap seems to break Dirk out of his trance as he hands Callie to Maryam.

“She’ll be in good hands,” Maryam says with a wink. “Congratulations, you two, on a successful, flawless birth!”

Maryam leaves with the bundle in her arms and you yawn. Dirk helps you off of the birthing table and over to the hospital bed. The two of you lay down on it and he drapes a blanket over you while the two of you doze.

“I love you, Dirk.”

“I love you too, Jane.” 

* * *

 

Several hours and a good snooze later, Maryam returns to announce that the baby is perfectly healthy, everything is developed just fine, and that she’s ready for her first meal. In the privacy of the room, Maryam wheels in Callie in a little cart and has you sit up. You open the front of your hospital gown and Maryam shows you how to nurse your baby. She latches on just fine after a few moments of you gently prodding at her lips with a swollen nipple. Once she’s feeding, you relax and lean back against the raised head of the bed. Dirk drapes an arm over your now deflated tummy and watches Callie suckle.

“I wonder what color her eyes will be,” he says. He grins at you. “She doesn’t have that Strider disease, just like I said she wouldn’t. So if she has my eyes, they’ll be brown, which is what color my eyes were _supposed_ to be. If she has yours, they’ll be blue.”

“You won’t know for some time yet,” Maryam says as she writes some notes down on a notepad. “A baby’s eyes are dark blue until about three to six months old, when her eyes will either stay blue or gradually change into her set color.”

“Duh, Dirk. The classes we went to taught us that,” you tease. “Weren’t you listening?”

“Babe, I’m always tired as hell. You can’t expect me to pick up every detail.”

You click your tongue at him before kissing his nose.

“Liar. You have never missed a detail in your life,” you murmur. He lifts his head and kisses your lips.

“Shit. She looks better now that she’s not so red and wrinkly,” Dirk says. You smile as he caresses Callie’s cheek. Her skin is lighter than yours but darker than Dirk’s, and the wispy hairs atop her head are dark brown. You figure it’ll change color like her eyes as she gets older, but for now you admire how she is a perfect blend of you and Dirk.

She finishes suckling by letting go of your nipple and whining, so you bounce her a little and hush her, petting the back of her smooth, velvety head.

“All finished, Callie?” you ask, cradling her as Dirk covers your breasts with the sheets once more. You smooch her forehead and she squeaks before opening her eyes and peering blankly up at you. They’re dark blue just as Miss Maryam said. “Hi there, peanut. Hi.”

“Sup, squirt,” Dirk says, leaning in so he’s in the baby’s gaze, too. “I don’t think she recognizes us yet.”

“Probably not. We’re probably just a couple of fuzzy doofuses. What are you thinking, Callie? Are Mommy and Daddy a couple of big fuzzy dummies?” you coo. Dirk snorts and gets out of bed while you coddle your newborn. “Where are you going?”

“Gonna freshen up a bit. Doctor Maryam’s letting us use this bathroom stall over here for showers. Are you okay to stand?”

“I think so,” you say. “Can you help me?”

“Yeah.”

Dirk goes to you and gently helps you sit up before taking the baby from you and placing her gently in the little cushioned wheeled crib that Maryam had used to bring her into the room. Dirk then helps you out of the bed and you grimace as you feel blood trickling down your thighs.

“Yuck. Doctor Maryam said I was gonna bleed for quite a few days afterwards. Like a super heavy period,” you say. “She’s going to keep me in the hospital for another day or so just to make sure there are no blood clots or hemorrhages. Whatever those are.”

Dirk nods as he helps you slowly move to the bathroom stall, where he strips the both of you down and turns the shower on. You wheel Callie halfway into the bathroom, keeping the door propped open so she doesn’t get too warm because of the steam. As Dirk helps you wash up, you gaze at her, watching her stare up at the ceiling and make little… baby noises. It’s mostly hiccupping or whining.

Dirk steps out of the spray of the shower when you reach down to gingerly rinse between your legs. The water turns red and you stick out your tongue at it.

“Ew. Nobody told me things were this gross after having a baby. Jeez.”

“Well, you got a little living sausage out of it, so hooray,” Dirk deadpans. You look over your shoulder at him and make a face.

“You’re so mean! Do you even love Callie?”

“Of course I do!” Dirk exclaims. “Of course. I would take a sword through the heart for her.”

You smile at him as he comes forward and smooches your cheek.

“Also your breath smells, babe. Toothbrush?”

“Oh, bugger off!” you laugh. “Yes, give me my toothbrush.”

The two of you brush your teeth under the shower spray, with you humming and Dirk kind of jigging along to the tune as he watches Callie to make sure she’s alright. She hasn’t really moved because… well, she was just born a few hours ago. But she sure seems to be having fun blinking up at the ceiling and lying there!

Once the two of you are nice and clean and fresh, you help each other dry off and you tease Dirk for being unprepared for just one thing: vaginal bleeding. Dirk curses himself for not thinking to bring pads, but you just laugh and show him the maternity pads Miss Maryam gave you.

You slip into a comfy pair of panties that Dirk brought for you, applying the maternity pad and rubbing your legs together to get it settled. Then you pull on sweatpants and a t-shirt while Dirk settles with a simple pair of basket ball shorts.

“So,” you say after a while.

“So,” Dirk replies.

“What now?” you ask as you gingerly lower yourself back down onto the bed. Dirk wheels Callie back to the bedside and you two watch her together.

“What do you mean? We take our pink monkey home and raise the hell out of her. What else is there?”

“I mean… birth control,” you say slowly. “I will be able to get pregnant again once I’m healed enough to have sex.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Dirk thinks for a long time before going to the bed and sitting down on it. He takes your hand.

“I think it would be best to focus on Callie for now, then decide later if we want to have another poop machine,” he says quietly. “We’re still young and we’re first time parents. Even _I_ don’t have a fucking clue how this is going to go. I’d like to wait a few years. Is that okay?”

“It’s exactly what I had in mind,” you say. “And there are birth control methods that are super safe, too. There’s this one we can get at Planned Parenthood. It’s just a tiny little match stick in my arm and it’s a completely safe birth control method. Roxy told me about it at my baby shower and actually got one herself a while ago. It’s perfect for us, I think. It lasts three years.”

“That sounds great,” Dirk agrees. “Yeah, let’s do that and see how it goes. But for now, I want to focus on you and the baby.”

“Okay,” you murmur. He looks at you and you look at him and Callie stares at the ceiling some more. He leans in and he kisses you. You can taste the mint of his toothpaste on his lips, you can feel the smoothness of his freshly brushed teeth with the tip of your tongue. He grabs you by the nape of your neck and pulls you in close, kissing you passionately.

“Mmm,” he hums when he finishes. You nuzzle his neck. “Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

“Dunno how I’m going to last waiting for you to be ready to have sex again,” Dirk groans. You giggle.

“Just because you can’t penetrate doesn’t mean we can’t do other things.”

The makes Dirk perk up quite a bit.

Throughout the rest of the night, nurses check up on you and you make several phone calls to the others telling them about your status. Your dad is overwhelmed with relief that nothing went wrong, and explains to you that your mother had some complications with you because of the width of her pelvis. Luckily for you, your bone structure is just big enough to fit a baby through!

The next day, you’re getting prepared to finally leave the hospital with your newborn, who passed all of her inspections with flying colors. It turns out that she’s a perfectly healthy baby. She had been carried to the full term, had been given all of the proper nutrients while in the womb, and had developed beautifully. You have passed all of your inspections as well and have been sent home with a few gifts from the hospital staff. The best is a car seat for the baby from Miss Maryam, which is much better than the standardized hospital ones. You also get some newborn-sized diapers to get you and Dirk started, and a CD with baby music to listen to on the way home.

With precious cargo, Dirk’s eyes never leave the road. Literally. He doesn’t even offer a single glance away from the road, stops completely at every stop sign, and ghosts his foot over the brakes when crossing railroad tracks. You squeeze his shoulder with appreciation while you turn around in your seat and sing along to ‘Old McDonald Had A Farm’. Callie makes squeaky baby sounds in response and stares blankly at you.

Silly baby.

When Dirk pulls in the driveway and gets out of the car, you stay where you are. You put your hand on Callie’s thigh and she just sits there with her mouth hanging open like a dummy. You giggle.

“Alright, kid,” Dirk says as he opens the door to the back seat. “Time to check out your new crib. Literally.”

You laugh as you get out of the car and go to the front door, where you wait while Dirk unclips the baby seat and pulls up the handle so it turns into a baby carrier. With Callie safely tucked inside, he goes to you at the front door and grins while you open it.

The two of you are met with a (quiet) cheer and little golf-claps. Your friends and family have gathered in your house and have put up a Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff banner that reads ‘IT’S A GIRL!’ with Sweet Bro saying ‘incredible’ in the corner.

“Heeey!” you cry as you cross the threshold. You point at the banner and give Dave a look. He only gives you a thumbs-up and smirks. You look to your dad, who is standing there looking pleased with himself as he holds a big cake with pink frosting in his hands. You go to him while Dirk moves to the couch to set the carrier down and sit beside the baby to make sure she’s still slumbering peacefully. You cross your arms over your chest as you look up at your dad. “Where’s Miss Maryam?”

Dad blushes and he clears his throat in a professional manner.

“She had some duties to fulfill at the hospital, but we have a date later to celebrate your successful birth,” he says calmly. His entire face lights up like a tomato and you just laugh and laugh at him.

“I wanna paint her toenails!” Roxy squeals. You turn to see her holding up Callie’s tiny foot. “Janeeeeey, please?”

“I want to paint her toenails too!” Jake exclaims, getting on his knees by Roxy and taking Callie’s other foot. Callie just stares placidly at the two morons playing with her feet.

She’s such a trooper.

You look at Dirk and he shrugs.

“She ain’t old enough to stick her limbs in her mouth,” Dirk points out. “I think it’d be okay.”

“Wrong.”

Everyone looks at Rose, who is standing there in a pencil skirt and a business suit top with her hands on her hips. She points dramatically at her daughter and her boyfriend.

“Her toenails are too thin and the chemicals in nail polish might soak into her skin! The only nail polish safe for her is nail polish made especially for children!”

Everyone stares. Dave whistles.

“Whoa, Mama. Didn’t know you cared so much.”

He chuckles and brings Rose into his arms while she tries to shove him off, mostly trying to keep his kissy face away from her own.

“Ugh, get off me you damn hooligan! I shall have none of this!”

“Admit it, you love babies!” Dave yells. Rose looks helplessly over at Callie and looks pained for a moment.

“You caught me. I cannot resist the charm of an infant. They’re just too adorable,” Rose sighs. Dave stops trying to give her slobbery kisses and just smirks at her as he squeezes her tighter.

“And? Are you going to tell everyone about how you put Roxy in pageants?”

“Daaaave!” Roxy whines. Both Lalondes flush, but while Roxy throws herself on the floor and hides her face in the carpet, Rose just crosses her arms and upturns her nose.

“It was simply for the purpose of making my daughter feel beautiful,” Rose says sharply. “And it did, because she won every single one of those pageants.”

“God, you snooty bitch,” Dave laughs. “Nobody’s judging you.”

“ _Strider_ -”

“We’re both Striders now.”

“No, I am still strictly a Lalonde,” Rose bites back.

You roll your eyes as their banter continues. Dad just looks uncomfortable as he sets the big cake down on the coffee table. With a huffed sigh, you go to the couch and sit on the open spot beside Callie’s carrier. From the other side, Dirk grins at you.

“You know,” Roxy says after a while, straightening and sitting cross-legged in front of Callie. Callie stares at her. “This little pipsqueak is worth staying sober, I think.”

Jake grins and squeezes Roxy’s shoulder.

“I mean an occasional drink here and there is okay,” Roxy continues. “But being with Jake has made me want to slow down and like… you know, not forget everything and have hangovers all the time? I wasted a ton of time doing that. I had a real problem!”

Now everyone is silent and listening.

“And I think now I’m like… Callie’s official aunt! And that means a whoooole lot to me. And I don’t want to miss fun times like this because I’m too busy getting drunk out of my mind, you know?” Roxy asks. She smiles a bit and kisses the heel of Callie’s foot. “So I think I’m going to stay sober. For her sake. And, you know, for Jake’s. But Callie kinda cements this decision even more.”

“Awww, Roxy!” you cry, weeping already. Roxy gives you a bewildered look.

“What the frick are you crying for?!”

“I don’t know!”

Everyone laughs while Roxy climbs into your lap and snuggles you. Meanwhile, Jake pouts and pulls a jar of pink nail polish out of his pocket.

“So does this mean no toenail painting?”

Dirk promptly kicks off his shoes and socks and smacks his foot down on the coffee table.

“Paint away, Bro.”

With everyone is laughing and having a good time, Dad cuts into the cake and all of you eat and talk about ridiculous things just like a family should. You think about it; everyone’s being pulled together by this tiny little helpless newborn, who is quiet as a mouse and just observant of everything. It makes you unbelievably happy.

“Damn she’s so quiet,” Dave comments as he sits on the coffee table and lets Roxy paint his toenails bright lime green. “She’s nothing like you when you were a tyke, kiddo.”

Dave gives Dirk a pointed look and Dirk looks offended behind his triangle shades.

“Me? Fuck no.”

“No. Shut up, kid. You were the loudest most obnoxious baby on the planet. Literally. I think you cried just because you felt like crying. You screamed just to hear your shrill screams. I couldn’t take you anywhere.”

“Maybe you weren’t raising me right, you insufferable prick.”

“Probably, because you turned into a fucking hermit at age five.”

“Because you beat the shit out of me all the time!”

“I was teaching you a hard lesson, champ.”

“Don’t fucking call me champ, buddy.”

“Don’t call me buddy, chief.”

“Don’t call me chief, Gaylord.”

“Oh, enough of that,” you scold, smacking Dirk’s knee and Dave’s wrist.

“Yes, Jane.” “Yes, Mom.”

“No, I think Callie got that quietness from her mother,” Dad pipes in proudly. “Jane was a very tolerable baby indeed. A polite baby, even. Nice and quiet and always just looking around and enjoying the world. Only crying when she needed something.”

“Of course Callie would be quiet because of her mom. Her _dad_ here-” Dave pokes Dirk’s chest. “-just loved terrorizing me.”

Just as they speak, Callie scrunches up her face and starts to cry.

“Uh oh.”

“Oh shit.”

“It’s because Jake smells!”

_“Roxy!”_

“I think she’s hungry,” you offer.

“Smell her first,” Rose instructs. You nod and lean in and-

“Ewww!” you cry.

“Clean up on Aisle Butt?” Dirk asks.

“Her first poop!” you exclaim proudly.

“Awesome. Maybe we can take a sample and put it in a bag for the scrapbook,” Dirk says sarcastically, unloading Callie from her carrier as she continues to wail. You smack his shoulder.

“Stop teasing me!”


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to all single parents or struggling young parents out there.
> 
> Special thanks to cherryburlesque for proofing work.

The first month is… difficult, to say the least.

What? No, everything is fine between you and Dirk! It’s just…

Well, Callie is, overall, a quiet baby, but she seems to get hungry or needs her diaper changed at the worst of times. Almost every single night, without fail, the baby monitor blares right next to your bed and both you and Dirk groan, willing it to be quiet for two dang seconds. Most of the time it’s you getting up at four in the morning with swollen, sore breasts, trudging into the nursery, and holding your wailing baby as she refuses to take your nipple for a good half hour until she realizes that, yeah, she’s hungry. Sometimes she just cries because she wants attention, which usually leads to either you or Dirk tiredly walking around the house and singing to her until she falls asleep again.

…Only to wake up again an hour later crying.

It’s a struggle! You curse yourself for ever thinking you could do this alone. Sometimes you feel as if Dirk is your lord and savior when he gets out of bed at ungodly hours to change a diaper or hush the baby until she sleeps again.

One night it gets so bad that Dirk finds you in the nursery, rocking back and forth in the rocking chair, cradling Callie and downright _begging_ her to stop crying while tears run down your own face. You’re so tired! You’re frustrated!

And your nipples really hurt!

But with the support of your friends and family, you and Dirk battle this monster harder than either of you have ever battled. Dirk and you blast through hundreds of pages of baby books, sometimes while holding a shrieking Callie. You learn ways to help her stop crying. You learn techniques to getting enough sleep. You learn how to soothe your aching breasts.

By month two, you and Dirk have become a power couple, working that baby like a practiced, well-lubricated machine. Baby powder? Check. Diaper? Check. Hush, Callie, Mommy and Daddy are here. We got you.

Dirk learns how to change a diaper in about ten seconds flat without riling up the baby. You learn how to pick up the scent of a dirty diaper from a mile away. You can do this!

“Happy birthday.”

The words startle you out of your reading. You look up from the rocking chair in the nursery to see Dirk standing in the doorway. He looks exhausted.

“I forgot your fucking birthday,” he says. He looks down at his watch. “Eleven-thirty PM. And I forgot your birthday.”

You raise your eyebrows. It’s been a whole year since your 21st already?

Callie starts whimpering in her crib and you stand from the rocking chair, only for Dirk to rush to Callie first and scoop her up.

“No. You’ve dealt with her all day,” he says, rocking her in his arms and shooshing her. Callie quiets pretty fast and coos up at her father, squirming a little. She has officially left the ‘helpless newborn’ stage and has begun the ‘curious infant’ stage. You have some broken necklaces to prove that.

“Dirk, I don’t mind,” you say gently. “I forgot, too.”

Dirk frowns and kisses Callie’s forehead, making her squeal with delight. He gives you a sad look.

“Still,” he says. “I shouldn’t have forgotten.”

“Dirk, I’ll be honest with you when I tell you that I don’t even _know_ when your birthday is.”

Dirk smirks a little.

“That makes me feel better. December third.”

“I’ll probably forget, too,” you say. You lean against him and he kisses the top of your head. “Don’t worry about forgetting, Dirk. We’ve been super focused on Callie. Dave and Rose are busy on their honeymoon, Jake and Roxy are on their trip, Dad and Miss Maryam are completely enamored with each other…”

You grin and look up at Dirk.

“I suppose there are just more important things going on right now,” you say gently. Dirk leans in to kiss your lips.

“Well right now, what’s important is that it’s your birthday and that I love you,” Dirk says with a tone of finality. He sets Callie back in her crib and the two of you watch as her eyelids grow heavy and shut completely. When she’s asleep, Dirk cups your neck and brings you in for a much more passionate kiss. He trails his pecks down your jaw and to your ear. He whispers hotly into it. “Jane, I’m gonna fuck you.”

You blink and look at him in surprise before you realize that, yeah, the two of you haven’t had sex for literally months. He doesn’t seem to be in a negotiating mood, and you could use some stress relief as well. You give him a nod and a little smile before he whisks you out of the nursery and brings you to the bedroom, where he lifts you up and tosses you down onto the bed. The two of you hurriedly get undressed, your ears straining to listen to the baby monitor as it crackles softly. Don’t wake up. Don’t wake up. Please don’t wake up.

When you’re naked, you lift your arms to Dirk to receive him as he tumbles down on top of you and settles between your legs, his flaccid cock pressing up against your flushed skin. You let out a soft moan but Dirk puts his finger to your lips and hushes you.

“Shh, Callie could wake up any minute,” he whispers. You nod and muffle your sounds with a pillow as you feel Dirk harden against you and prod at your entrance. You spread your legs to accommodate him, then peek up from behind your pillow.

“Dirk, I might… not be as tight as I was before,” you say softly. Dirk rolls his eyes.

“Bullshit,” he says. He bucks his hips and suddenly you’re full of Dirk, which makes your toes curl and a low mewl tumble from your lips. Dirk hisses and bites his lip. “Mmm. Tight as ever, Miss Crocker.”

You giggle but it’s abruptly cut short as you hear whimpering sounds on the baby monitor.

“Ugggh,” Dirk groans. He looks over his shoulder. “Callie, shhh. Shut up for just like fifteen minutes. Please.”

The whimpers turn into cries, then wails.

“Fuuuuck,” Dirk whines. You frown sympathetically up at him as he slowly pulls out of you.

“I’m sorry,” you say. Dirk pouts and buries his face in your breasts.

“She’s such a little shit. First she steals your perfect tits, now she’s stealing sexy time? She knows what she’s doing, that conniving little brat.”

“Oh, stop with that,” you say as you pull on a robe. Dirk stares down at his half-mast cock in disappointment. “She’s just a baby. She can’t help it.”

You go to the nursery and softly hush your baby as you scoop her up.

“Sh-sh-sh-sh,” you whisper. You dance a bit around the nursery to help her calm down before sitting in the rocking chair and rocking her back and forth. Tiredly, you glance at the clock. Midnight.  “Callie, _please_.”

Dirk comes into the nursery a moment later with some shorts on and sits on a stool beside the rocking chair. He watches silently as you part your robe and nurse Callie, who is actually quite quick to take your nipple and suckle. She hiccups and tries to cry around it for a while before she finally relaxes and focuses on feeding.

“Man,” Dirk sighs. “Sometimes I’m fucking pissed at her but then times like this make me fall in love all over again.”

You smile and nod while Dirk leans against your arm and shuts his eyes, dozing a little.

“You can go to bed if you’d like, honey,” you say quietly. “I think she’s tired, but she was just a little hungry. So you might want to go to bed now. She’s going to wake up two hours from now and need her diaper changed.”

“I want to stay here with you,” Dirk murmurs, half-asleep. You smile but then feel a bit emotional again, feeling a lump form in your throat.

“This is really hard,” you whisper. Dirk looks up as you give a little sniffle and shake your head. “I want to go to bed and sleep for a thousand hours.”

“That would be classified as a coma.”

You laugh tearfully and wipe at your eyes with your free hand, supporting Callie with one arm. Your nipple almost slips from her mouth, so you quickly return your other arm to her.

“I don’t know. This is just really hard and I knew it was going to be hard, but I didn’t think it was going to be _this_ hard,” you continue. You blink and a couple tears slip down your cheeks. “I mean, I want to go hang out with Jake and Roxy, and I want to see my dad, and I want to have sex and bake and stuff. I’m tired of just… whipping up something out of a box because I have no time to do anything else.”

You hiccup and Callie seems to sense your distress. She starts whimpering around your nipple and you pet her head until she calms down and returns to feeding.

“And I know you’re super frustrated too and just…” you cut yourself off and hiccup again. Dirk wipes your tears for you. “I’m sorry.”

“I know it’s tough as hell,” Dirk says. You look over and his eyes are watery and downcast. He rests his elbow on the arm of the rocking chair and leans his head on his fist. “And yeah, it’s fucking frustrating for me. But this is what both of us wanted. We wanted this and now we’re getting our asses kicked. Do you think we should’ve… put her up for adoption?”

He physically struggles to get the words out, and when he lifts his head a teardrop falls down his tired face and you’ve never seen a man so positively emotionally and physically exhausted before. You shake your head at him.

“No. I don’t regret keeping her,” you say. You gaze down at her face and smile at her lightly closed eyes and the milk bubbles foaming up at the corners of her lips. With your pinky, you twist a lock of wispy hair around your digit and cup her head. “And I know you don’t regret it either.”

“I don’t,” Dirk says. “I really don’t. I love her so much I can’t fucking handle it. My logic is warring with my emotions and it’s exhausting as hell.”

“I know how you feel. How, logically, keeping her wasn’t the best choice,” you say slowly. “But we kept her because we wanted her. Because we were a couple of dumb kids who thought, because we have all the money and time in the world, we could handle this. But this is literally so hard I don’t know how we’ve made it this far.”

“Imagine how Rose must’ve felt. My brother, even. They were single parents, too. Well, kind of. My bro was pretty much just my bro. But still? We were poor as fuck when Dave was just starting out with his filming shit. So he had to work _and_ take care of me by himself. On top of that he was dealing with our parents bailing out after I was born.”

“And Rose had a lot of stuff going for her already with her novels, but with Roxy she was pretty much stuck at home all the time.”

“Yeah.”

“It was so much bloody harder for them, and here we are whining when we’re a rich couple who both care for and love one little baby. Like, even my dad was a single parent and he still loves me so much even though raising me was so hard for him to handle. We really shouldn’t be complaining.”

“I think it’s hard for everyone,” Dirk finally says. “No matter who they are. For single parents? Fuck, it’s even harder. I don’t know how they do it. One thing’s for sure, though? They’re a hell of a lot stronger than we are.”

“Yeah…”

Callie finally pops off and you bring her to your shoulder to pat her back until she lets out a little burp. You praise her, kiss her nose, then you let Dirk give her a goodnight kiss.

“Such a hungry baby,” you say happily, giving her chubby thigh a tickle. She squirms and stares up at you with her little elbows folded up against her chest. With a coo, her lips fall open and she smiles for the first time. You light up immediately. “Hey! There’s that little smile!”

“Well, shit,” Dirk says. He snaps a picture with his iPhone. The smile fades again after a moment and Callie returns to looking around. “Heh. I don’t think she was smiling just to smile. Probably just mimicking you.”

You give Dirk a grin and tickle Callie’s tummy. She squirms and pants a little.

“You’ve been smiling a lot lately,” Dirk says. “Whenever she so much as makes a sound you just light right up. And even though this is hard and shit, you’re still happier than I have ever seen you before.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Well…” you trail off. “I think it’s worth it for those little moments! I know it’s cheesy but after a really long day, when my back hurts and I’m tired and all I want to do is fall over, seeing her moving and watching the world and making sounds just to hear her own voice makes me really happy.”

“Hey, I know I don’t show it a lot, but I really feel the same way,” Dirk says. You beam at him.

“I know. Even when you don’t smile, I know when you’re smiling on the inside.”

Dirk snorts and leans in to kiss your lips before pulling away and looking down at Callie. She’s looking tired again as her eyes begin to slide shut.

“Time for bed,” you singsong, standing from the rocking chair and setting the baby gingerly in her crib. “What’s the temperature in here?”

“Seventy-five,” Dirk answers. You pause and touch her toes to make sure they’re warm enough.

“Should I put a blanket on her?” you ask.

“Nah. Let’s do this,” Dirk says. He takes a baby blanket and rolls it up before putting it on one side of Callie’s body, then rolls up another and puts it on the other side. He then drapes a knit blanket just over her legs. “There.”

“Hehe,” you giggle. You reach down to pet Callie’s head as she sleeps. “Turn on the fan, would you, love?”

“Sure thing,” Dirk says. He goes to the floor fan and turns it on, making it face away from the crib. You read in a baby book that fans help the air circulate in the room and will help the baby sleep soundly. Worriedly, you straighten and stare down at the sleeping baby as you grip the bars of the crib. You feel Dirk’s hand on your shoulder. “You’ve been reading too much about crib death, babe.”

“It freaks me out. Nobody knows what causes it, nobody knows how to stop it from happening… it scares me! What if Callie…”

“She won’t,” Dirk says firmly. “You’re thinking about it too much.”

“You’re right,” you sigh. “Okay. Then let’s go to bed.”

Throughout the rest of November and into December, you and Dirk continue to struggle. Things are, however, getting better as time passes with Callie learning how to control her body on her own.

At Christmas, everyone celebrates the baby’s first Christmas and she gets loaded with a lot of toys. She even smiles back at you when you smile at her, then smiles and expects you to return the favor. The first time she actively (and purposefully) grips something in her hands is the day after Christmas, when she grabs Dirk’s finger and holds it. You see Dirk’s heart break for the second time since Callie was born.

And so life moves on. You and Dirk sacrifice a lot of time with each other to spend it with the baby, but you still love each other dearly. You tell each other ‘don’t forget the wedding, don’t forget the wedding’, but with Callie around, the two of you often forget that you’re even engaged. You two still celebrate your love, of course, and you even get a few chances here and there to sneak in quick rounds of sex.

In January, Callie finds the strength to lift her head and part of her chest when she’s on her tummy, and her curiosity with the world grows exponentially. You invest in some pacifiers so she has something to suckle when she’s not nursing, and you laugh every time she gets surprised or distracted about something and the little binky falls right out of her mouth.

Now that Callie’s developing a personality beyond sleeping, pooping, crying, and eating, this whole baby raising business isn’t so bad! No longer bored with staying home alone while Dirk is working, you spend long hours playing with Callie in the living room. You dangle toys in front of her and she gets so excited that she kicks up her heels in her little footie pajamas, her eyes get wide, and she sucks on her pacifier even faster as she takes swipes at the toys you show her. More than once, Dirk has come home to find you rolling around on the living room floor while Callie wriggles and squirms on her play blanket in utter delight, letting out happy baby shrieks.

Dirk won’t admit it, but more often than not, when he gets down on the floor to join in on the play, he actually _enjoys_ it.

While she grows, you learn a lot of things about Callie. One, she is extremelyhyper and easy to excite. One look at a toy and she is literally _screaming_ in your arms. It’s definitely not anything like when she’s upset and crying, because these screams and shrieks and screeches are all happy, as if she’s saying _‘I wanna play with that because it’s so exciting!’_

Two, she’s always smiling about everything. Daddy stubs his toe? She’s smiling. Mommy watching a movie? Smiling. Grandpa bakes a cake? Smiling. Auntie Roxy smooches Uncle Jake? Smiling. Smiling, smiling, smiling, like a little cherub. She smiles at everything, even when she’s crying. She apparently reminds Dirk of Li’l Cal and he appropriately nicknames her Li’l Callie Crocks.

Three, the whole ‘quiet baby’ ruse was…….. a distaction.

She is loud. Sure, she doesn’t cry unless she needs something or wants attention, but good golly gracious, the _screaming_. She just loves to shriek or babble at anything she finds exciting. At one point Dirk even has to take down the mobile hanging over the crib so she’ll actually get some sleep at night.

Overall she is just a happy little bundle of joy and you couldn’t be happier to have her in your life.

It’s still hard, of course! You still wake up at ungodly hours of the night to nurse or change a diaper or walk around the house with a crying baby in your arms for a few hours, but it’s worth seeing her smile every morning when you wake her up to play.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Throughout the course of writing this fic, never once was it my intention to romanticize or glorify young couples accidentally getting pregnant and having a baby. It has never been my intention to influence people to keep their babies either, because it's 'worth it in the long run'. The point of this chapter, and the whole fanfiction of course, is to show the complications and the struggles of being young first-time parents who aren't necessarily ready. It was to show that, even with all of the riches in the world and all of the time on your hands and all of the helping hands available, raising a baby is HARD work and isn't to be taken lightly. That being said, I have dedicated this chapter to all of the single parents and struggling couples having a rough time with their own children. My hat is off to all of you for the hardships and struggles you endure for one (or more!) little life (or lives). You're so strong and I feel nothing but respect for you. You're going to raise one HELL of a child. Keep on fightin', I'll be rooting for you.


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to cherryburlesque for the proofing work.

“Ghhh, ghhh! Ba-ba-ba-ba-ba!”

You look over your shoulder to see Callie on her tummy on her cushioned baby blanket as she smacks Li’l Seb against the floor before snuggling the rabbit and sticking its ears in her mouth. When she sees you paying attention to her, she shrieks with delight and starts laughing.

“Is Li’l Seb a sheep, Miss Callie Crocks? Baa, baa, baa?” you coo before turning back to the stove and humming as you stir the pasta in the pot. It’s been a long five and a half months, but here you are! Callie is growing more and more independent by the day. Since her birth she has rapidly absorbed the world and is eager to absorb even more, learning about her environment and the parents who love her oh, so dearly. Now that you’re out of her first phases as a baby, you feel as if the time is just flying by.

When you turn around again, Callie is struggling to sit up. You wipe your hands on your apron and help her sit up, putting her little curved pillow around her bum to keep her supported. With a smile (which is returned enthusiastically by your happy baby), you straighten once more and go back to making dinner. Just as you’re draining the pasta, you hear the familiar sound of a car pulling up the driveway. Callie hears it too and she waves her arms and starts shrieking.

“That’s the sound of Daddy coming home, isn’t it?” you ask. Callie gets wide-eyed and bounces so much that she falls forward onto Li’l Seb. It surprises her, so she promptly begins to cry. You just laugh at her and scoop her up into her arms. “Oh, enough of that, you big drama queen.”

Callie is right back to screaming and squirming as the front door opens and Dirk comes trudging into the house. He smiles tiredly when he sees you and Callie approaching to greet him at the door.

“Sup,” he says in an exhausted exhale, leaning in to kiss you when you prompt him by puckering your lips. He moves over to kiss Callie’s nose next, then ruffles her fuzzy hair. “Have you been cooking?”

“Sure have!” you say proudly. “Callie’s been a handful, so I haven’t gotten much done. Can you watch her or is wittle Dirky too tired?”

“That baby talk stuff works on Callie, but not on me,” Dirk scolds, but he grins and hoists Callie into his arms anyway. “Oof. Hey there, lard-o, is Mommy feeding you cakes for breakfast?”

“Oh, no,” you say with a smile. “She accepted pureed bananas today.”

Dirk raises his eyebrows and gives his daughter an over-the-top surprised look. She squeals and laughs at him, trying to reach for his nose. He lets her grab it and pull.

“Da’s graid,” he says. He huffs and pulls his nose from Callie’s grasp. “That’s great. Thank god. I was starting to get sick of that mushed peas and carrots smell.”

“Honestly? I was too. But Callie loves her peas, doesn’t she?” you croon, peppering Callie’s face with kisses. She smiles big and wide for you and babbles as she puts her hand on your lips and grabs at them. You pull away before she can start yanking and lead Dirk to the kitchen. He nods in approval at the homemade alfredo sauce waiting on the kitchen counter.

“Hey, where’s Dave Jr. at? I haven’t seen her around,” Dirk says. You grin at him.

“Oh, gallivanting about as usual. Callie grabbed her tail yesterday and now she’s off hiding somewhere, I’m sure. And don’t worry, I’m not going to let Callie terrorize that mangy furball, she’s too old for a baby to be yanking on her tail. I pulled Callie off of her right away so she could get away.”

“Sweet, thanks,” Dirk says. He sits on the play mat and holds Callie under her armpits as he helps her exercise her legs. “I don’t want Callie to be mean to puppies and kitties. It’s a big no-no, isn’t it, little miss Callie Crocks?”

You don’t tease Dirk for babytalking to Callie because you know he’ll throw a tantrum about it. Instead, you turn away and laugh as Dirk nuzzles Callie’s ear with his nose. She shrieks and falls back into Dirk’s lap, where she squirms and grips at his jeans. After that, he goes silent. Concerned, you look over your shoulder at him.

He’s got that distant look in his gaze again as he holds a babbling Callie in his lap, staring blankly down at the floor. You furrow your eyebrows a little. He’s been acting a bit… strange lately. A little bit distant. More often than usual, he locks himself away in his office. Well, okay, that’s unfair to say. When Callie is down for a nap or isn’t in need of attention, _that’s_ when Dirk goes and hides in his office. He shares the duties of baby raising with you very equally, really! It’s just…

Well, you suppose he feels a bit distant from you is all. And you can understand that maybe you’re a bit overbearing at times, and maybe it is a bit mean to make him sleep on the couch when you two have big fights. But all of that doesn’t mean he’s not interested in you anymore.

Right?

You frown down at the pasta on the stove as you add some fresh chopped mushrooms and basil. No, no, of course that isn’t it. Dirk loves sex with you, even when it’s a fast and frantic race against time. Callie’s down for a nap? The two of you rush to the bedroom and rip your clothes off as fast as you can for hushed, desperate lovemaking.

Once, he even took you right on the kitchen table because Callie was in her little portable naptime crib in the living room and the two of you couldn’t be arsed to move upstairs. You know Dirk is still interested because he still loses himself in your mound when he puts that oral fixation of his to use, he gets sweaty and growls with the effort, and you know he’s very satisfied because he still passes out the moment after he orgasms.

You blush to yourself. Why do you think this is sex-related? Or even related to you, for that matter? He could be stressed at work, anything! You still fret over it during dinner that night while you stare at Dirk feeding (or attempting to feed) Callie. What could possibly be wrong with him?

…You find out exactly what’s wrong two days later, when you turn the handle of Dirk’s office and enter with a tray of snacks for him to munch on while he works. Instead of finding Dirk working, however, you find him leaned all the way back in his office chair, head tipped back, earbuds in his ears, and his cock out in his hand. That’s not what surprises you the most, because on the monitor of his desktop computer, he’s watching gay porn.

Now you’re going to be clear, so listen up! You are a very understanding and open-minded woman. Most of the time. Usually only when things are actually believable. Sometimes it’s hard for you to understand things properly, alright? You are quick to jump to conclusions and it stinks, but it’s the truth about you.

…Okay, so maybe you over-reacted just a little.

You drop the tray of snacks in shock. The vibrations on the floor or the sound of metal clanging against the wood floor jolts Dirk from his bliss and he whips around, accidentally pulling his earbuds out of his speakers. Loud moaning ensues. Dirk fumbles with the speakers to turn them down, then rips the power cord of his monitor out of the wall. The screen goes black and the two of you just sit there in stunned silence.

“Uh,” is what Dirk says. “The uh. The door wasn’t locked?”

“No,” you answer. “I should’ve… knocked?”

“It’s… uhh… yeah, it’s not your fault, babe, I just… um.”

“I’m going to leave now, okay?” you ask awkwardly. Fear grips you for a moment and you pause at the door, looking fearfully at your fiancé. “And I love you. I love you very, very much.”

Dirk looks wounded for a moment as he stares at you.

“I love you too,” he says while he tucks himself back in his pants. “I really do.”

You quietly shut the door behind you and proceed to flip the fuck out. 

* * *

 

“So that’s what happened and now I’m completely friggin’ terrified, like what if he’s… you know? What if he isn’t interested in me anymore?” you ask. You and Roxy are out at a restaurant for lunch, where she is listening to your story with rapt attention.

“Daaang. Strider’s packing some fierce homo fantasies, huh?” she asks, wagging her eyebrows. You frown.

“Roxy, this is serious!” you exclaim. You cover your eyes with your hands. “Oh gods, what could I even do in this situation? I’m not about to deny Dirk his sexual needs just because I’m jealous! He can’t help it!”

“But he’s your man,” Roxy points out. “Like. _Your_ man. You have the rock to prove it and everything.”

“But Dirk has been skating the middle of the fence since the beginning,” you say. “Before we were together. I mean, we’ve been together for a year and a half and we’ve known each other since… heck, since we were in diapers! It’d be perfectly natural for him to be tired of me.”

“Dude, I don’t think he’s tired of you at all. He was just watching gay porn, Janey. And even if it is like… for _realsies_ , then maybe he just isn’t getting sexual fulfillment? Like what sort of stuff do you guys do in bed? Wait, let me guess, missionary position with the lights off?”

“How’d you know?”

“Girl’s intuition. Listen, Jane, you gotta step it up! Earn back your man’s interest! Show him that you are the sexiest thing in his life and that he better shape up!” Roxy says encouragingly. “Like me and Jake? Wow. Woooow. We’re like totes… animals in heat, Janey. The other day he just grabbed me like a wild beast, ripped off my clothes, and fucked me right on the living room floor. Best. Rugburn. Ever. You and Dirk need to have more exciting sex!”

“Impossible, especially with Callie around,” you groan.

“Have gramps look after her for a while. Hell, me and Jake will do it! Like, gladly. Callie’s a little sweetheart and I still haven’t had that toenail painting party with her yet!” Roxy says. “C’mon. I’m sure Dave and Rose would even watch over her for you guys if you wanted.”

“I don’t want to impose,” you whine. “Dad’s really busy with Miss Maryam, especially now that she has moved in with him! I’m sure Dad is… making up for a lot of lost time.”

“Oooh. Sexually?”

You sigh and roll your eyes.

“Yes, sexually. And romantically! He hasn’t had a romantic companion in almost twenty years and now he finally has a woman in his arms again. Of course they’re having sex.”

“Doesn’t she want kids? I mean… your dad isn’t an old fart, but I’m sure he’s not quite so potent anymore, know what I’m sayin’? And like… she’s super young. Like thirty.”

“Thirty-three. And Miss Maryam’s infertile,” you sigh. You stir your ice tea with your straw and take a sip of it while Roxy gapes at you.

“No way! That’s terrible!”

“Mhm. Daddy talks about her on the phone all the time, and he doesn’t quite know how to keep secrets, I suppose. She wanted to be a doctor because she had a terrible miscarriage and lost her baby. She had to have a hysterectomy and everything. She’s been through so much, it’s absolutely horrible,” you explain. You give Roxy a look. “By the way, I’m only telling you this because you’re my very best friend! I love Miss Maryam very dearly for everything she has done for me. I trust that you won’t tell anyone?”

“My lips are sealed,” Roxy says. She pouts. “Wow. I had no idea!”

“Both my dad and Miss Maryam have a lot of emotional wounds that never healed properly, and I hope that now they can find peace with each other,” you say quietly. “I want everything to go their way.”

“How could it not? Seriously, they’re completely in love with each other. I mean, the last time I saw them was at Easter and I don’t think I’ve ever seen two people so in love before. Your dad looks really young and stuff. They’re a match made in heaven.”

“Dirk says that they’re _the_ Mother and _the_ Father of the universe and that they were born for each other,” you giggle. It reminds you of Dirk. “Oh, for goodness sakes, we got so off track!”

“Oh shit,” Roxy laughs. “Okay, listen up, Janey, because I’m being serious. I think you should let Callie stay with Grandpa Crocks. Just for, like, tomorrow. Then you and Dirk can have the house to yourselves and you can do a whole bunch of crazy kinky sex to earn your man back.”

“But…”

“No buts! Real talk, Jane. Serious business. I think your dad would absolutely love to have Callie over. Just because he’s enamored with his sexy Spanish baby-deliverin’ doctor, it doesn’t mean that he doesn’t have any time for his own granddaughter. And hey, I bet Miss Maryam would love it, too! She’s totally into babies and junk and I bet she’d have a real big field day with her.”

“You really think so?”

“I know so.”

* * *

 

The day after the next, at ten in the morning, Roxy’s advice leads you right up to the front door of your dad’s house. Callie, who’s balanced on your hip as you ring the doorbell, sucks fiercely on her pacifier as she swipes at a hanging potted plant swinging from the awning over the front porch. You smile at her and bounce her a little before the door opens.

Miss Maryam stands there in pajamas and slippers, a cup of steaming coffee in her hands. You’ve never seen her look this casual. She lights up the moment she sees you.

“Jane! Good morning! It’s wonderful to see you!” she says. “Come on in! Your dad’s in the kitchen making breakfast right now. And I see you brought Callie with you. Goodness gracious, she’s getting bigger every day!”

You grin as you walk into the comfortable, warm atmosphere of your dad’s house. Miss Maryam seems to have settled into the house just fine, some of her belongings making the house look a little different than usual. A framed picture of Porrim and another woman, presumably Kanaya, her youngest sister, hangs where a huge portrait of some movie star once hung. There is also a framed picture of the band, and another two separate pictures of Cronus and Eridan. There’s a final picture sitting on a shelf as well of a man in a marine uniform. Beside it sits a neatly folded American flag and a few medals.

“You’ve moved in nicely, Miss Maryam,” you compliment, laughing as the cuckoo clock strikes ten o’clock sharp and makes Callie jump. The binky falls out of her mouth and onto the floor. Miss Maryam stoops down to pick it up.

“Please, call me Rosa, dear, there’s no need for formalities,” Rosa says kindly, brushing off the pacifier before bustling to the kitchen to run it under some warm water. “James, darling, Jane is here.”

“Ah yes, I thought that was the voice of my perfect princess,” Dad says from the kitchen. He emerges and bundles both you and Callie up in his arms. Callie squeals and bats at his chin. “And of course the littlest pumpkin as well!”

“You excited to see Grampa?” you ask Callie. She smiles big and wide for your father and he chuckles as you hand her to him. He hoists her up and lifts her above his head. She kicks and squeals before Dad nuzzles her and kisses her forehead.

“Good lord, she’s getting big,” Dad says as Rosa comes back with the pacifier. She hands it to Callie, who takes it and clumsily pushes it into her mouth. You roll your eyes.

“Dad, you say that every time you see her,” you scold. He beams at you.

“Because she gets bigger every time I see her!”

“Jane, would you like some coffee?” Rosa asks, putting one hand on Dad’s back and scratching gently between his shoulder blades. You smile when his eyes get really soft and affectionate.

“Sure thing!”

The three of you (plus Callie) move into the kitchen, where Rosa pours you a cup of coffee. You rummage around in the fridge and find some hazelnut creamer, which you add to your coffee before sitting down at the kitchen table with Rosa.

“Are you hungry, Jane?” Dad asks, holding Callie on his hip with one arm and flipping an egg with the other. Callie stares at the way the spatula moves, sucking hard on her pacifier.

“No, I had breakfast at home. Thank you, though.”

“Are you sure? We have plenty.”

“I’m sure, Dad.”

You sigh as Dad sets down a small bowl with some hash browns and some toast in front of you.

“Thanks Dad.”

Rosa chortles lightly at the scene and sips silently at her coffee as Dad serves her.

“Thank you, dear.”

“You’re very welcome, sweetheart.”

You smile as Dad hands Callie back to you. You set her in your lap and take a bite of the hash browns, if only to be polite. She goos and gaas at it and reaches out for the spoon while you eat.

“So what brings you over, Jane? Surely it was for something more than watching your old man have breakfast with his girlfriend,” Dad says cheerfully with a big wink. You smile.

“Yes, actually. I have a… little request. Dirk and I… well, let’s just say our ‘spark’ has dwindled just a tad due to the baby,” you say, looking pointedly at Rosa. She understands immediately and nods once, smiling knowingly into her cup. Dad, meanwhile, chews his food with a blissfully ignorant look on his face.

“What’do’ya mean by that?” he asks around a mouthful of eggs. Rosa chuckles lightly and reaches over to place a delicate hand over Dad’s.

“If what you’re proposing is that we watch Callie for a while, I have absolutely no qualms with that,” Rosa says. “How about you, James?”

“Of course! I thought you’d never ask, Jane. I know how stubborn you can be. Of course we’ll watch her!” he says enthusiastically. You sigh with relief.

“You’re sure I’m not imposing?”

“No, no, not at all!” Dad says. He stands and goes to you, squeezing your shoulder. “Jane, having a baby means a lot of responsibility, but there’s nothing wrong with letting loved ones help you out, even if it’s just for a day of peace and quiet. You and Dirk just sort things out, and Rosa and I will take care of the rest.”

“Thanks, Dad,” you say. You stand to give him a one-armed hug. Callie giggles and squeals as she’s squeezed between the two of you. “I’ve got everything in the car already.”

Dad nods and exits the house before you can offer to help, so you stand in the kitchen in  peaceful silence with Rosa. She smiles and sips more coffee.

“Sex life?” she asks, her facial expression unchanging.

“A-yup.”

“I see. Have you ever tried anything with your bums?”

The question surprises you, but Rosa is looking as peaceful and serene as ever. Feeling silly about making a big deal out of it, you shake your head.

“No… not at all. He’s never asked for um… anal.”

“I wasn’t talking about just _your_ bum,” she says, winking. Callie babbles at you while you gape at Rosa. Before you can say anything, your father comes back in with a bag and Callie’s stroller in his arms.

“Alright, that’s everything! We’ll take it from here, pumpkin,” Dad says. You offer Callie to him and she shrieks gleefully at the transition from Mommy’s arms to Grandpa’s arms. “Would you like some leftovers to take home?”

“No thanks, Dad,” you say quickly. You glance at Rosa, who just gives you a smile and a wave.

“Good luck, dear.”


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *
> 
> Sorry this took so long, friends! I just recently started my second year of college and had a really bad run-in with some financial problems. Speaking of which, I do not wish to advertise my need for money here, but I still owe quite a bit of money and every penny counts. I also give shout-outs to donators on my blog so yeah. If you're interested in donating, please visit my blog at http://porrimicide.tumblr.com. From there, you will find a paypal donation button on the lefthand side. Click it, and you can choose the amount paid, etc. Thank you so much for reading!

It’s… eerily quiet when you get home from the store. With the plastic bags in your hands, you pad across the carpeted floor, looking almost fondly at the stain Callie had made when some of her peas and carrots had fallen while you were feeding her. Her toys are still scattered all over the place. The faint scent of baby powder tickles your nose.

But of course, there’s no baby. She’s with your dad and his partner. It makes you a little sad. You miss her laugh and her shrieking. She’s loud and she causes both you and Dirk a great deal of headaches, but knowing she is screaming because she’s happy is infinitely better than knowing she’s upset.

But that’s not why you’re here! Focus!

You shake your head and go to the kitchen, where you unload a carton of strawberries and whipped cream. Blood immediately rushes to your cheeks. The two of you have done kinky things before, of course, but it had always come so naturally before this. Now that you’re making an actual _attempt_ to be kinky, you only feel silly. Nibbling your lips, you wash the fruit and put it in a bowl, then take both the bowl and the whipped cream upstairs to the bedroom.

The sheets are all pulled off and replaced with Dirk’s favorite black satin sheets (they had been out of commission for a while due to the vaginal bleeding after your pregnancy and after that you had forgotten about the other sheets) and the pillows are fluffed. Briefly, you consider sprinkling rose petals on the sheets, but then you decide against cutting the roses off your beautiful rose bush.

So you set the strawberries down and dash to the bathroom to take a thorough shower. Legs are shaved, hair is scrubbed twice, and you completely immerse yourself in sudsy, sweet-smelling body wash that makes you smell like cream. After that, you rub cocoa body butter all over yourself, which makes you soft to the touch. With a shy smile, you pull on some lingerie and go back to the bedroom, where you spend twenty minutes trying to find a good position on the bed.

You end up taking so long trying to fiddle with your curled hair and trying to find a good position that, by the time you’re maybe halfway done deciding, you hear the front door open.

“Jane?”

You hear his voice from downstairs. Your heart begins to hammer in your chest as you frantically straighten out your hair, adjust your glasses, and get yourself situated atop the bed. You end up on your knees, legs tucked under you, seated on your heels. When the door opens, you blush down to your chest and avert your eyes.

“…Jane? Where’s Callie?” he asks. You frown as you look at him. He’s standing in the doorway, looking tired as usual with his finger hooked in his tie to loosen it. Callie? That’s who he’s worried about? Well, of course you care that he’s concerned about Callie, but doesn’t he know that you would be freaking out and not lounging half naked in the bedroom if Callie was somehow ‘gone’?!

You clench your fists, suddenly feeling humiliated. Without realizing it, your eyes are burning and a hard lump is forming in your throat. Your hand flies up to your face and you scrub vigorously at your eyes, not wanting Dirk to see you like this.

“Wh…? Hey, hey, Jane…” he murmurs. You feel the bed sink beside you and a hand squeeze your knee. “Babe?”

“I’m sorry,” you hiccup. “I just… I’m… don’t you notice anything different?”

“You mean all this? Of course I noticed it,” Dirk says. He rubs your back as you sniffle and rub at your eyes. “You look gorgeous.”

“Is it not the same? Like, before you were so excited when you saw me in this, and now it’s like… is it because I’m not pregnant anymore?” you ask. You bite your lip. “Is it because I’m a woman?”

Dirk’s eyebrows come together and his jaw sets.

“What the fuck kinda guy do you take me for? Think I’d leave you just because I swing for both teams?”

You hiccup and sniffle again because his voice is cold and it stings a lot.

“N-No, I just, I want to be everything you want, I want you to be happy, and I feel like I’m screwing it all up and I feel like I’m messing up. And I feel pathetic because I would change everything about myself for you. I’d get a sex change if you wanted it.”

“Don’t say that,” Dirk says. He touches your cheek and wipes your tears for you while you cry like a big baby. “That’s not funny to even joke about.”

“But I love you and I’d do anything to be with you and to make you happy,” you weep. “I know it’s pathetic and petty and really stupid but it’s true.”

Dirk answers you by kissing you nice and slow and easy, but you cry into his mouth while he cups your face and thumbs away your tears. After a moment, he deepens the kiss and lowers you onto the bed, hand sliding down to cup your breast and squeeze. You sink into the sheets, sighing and submitting completely to him.

But instead of continuing, Dirk stops and pulls away, looking off into the distance again. You open your eyes and gaze up at him, lips cherry red and swollen from your kiss. He gives you a pained look and you’re about to start crying again when he bends to kiss you once more.

“This is about the whole… gay porn thing, isn’t it?” Dirk asks softly. You blush and nod.

“You’ve just been so distant with me, added onto that. I thought you weren’t interested in me anymore.”

“No… no, never,” Dirk chuckles softly. “Have more faith in me, Jane. Damn. When a Strider tells you he loves you, he means it.”

He emphasizes what he says by gently stroking you through your panties, which has you sighing and trembling a little.

“You want to know why I was being distant?”

You nod.

“I’ve been preoccupied with work,” he says. “A bunch of shit is going down and I’m expected to lead and be the head of the arrow for this whole thing. I mean, I’m good at it and I know what I’m doing, but leading is exhausting. And… sometimes I want to pass it to somebody else.”

“Is this carrying over to our sex life?” you ask. Dirk nods.

“Yes. I… I want all of the control ripped away from me for a while,” he says. He looks at you suggestively and expectantly. You shake your head a little.

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Jane, I really just need…” he struggles to say. You rub his shoulders and he relaxes a little. “Can you fuck me?”

“Me?” you ask, surprised. “Like… on top?”

“I’ll show you,” Dirk sighs. He goes to his dresser and opens it before digging through all of his socks. He retrieves a shoebox and brings it back to the bed, where he opens it up and shows you what’s inside.

A strap-on stares back up at you. You guess you kinda just… grimace at it for a few seconds, because this is quite possibly the most embarrassing thing you’ve ever laid your eyes on.

“It’s too much,” Dirk says quickly. He puts the lid back on the shoebox and looks… actually ashamed of himself. He begins to get up to put it away, but you stop him with a hand on his arm.

“No, it’s just a lot to take in,” you say carefully. He slowly sits back down. “I’m not sure if I know what to do.”

“Well, I’d take a shower so I can get all prepared. Then I can show you how to do it from there.”

His face looks so hopeful and desperate that all you can do is nod. He smiles, kisses your lips, then speeds off to take a shower. While he’s gone, you look down at the ominous toy in the box. It’s not goofy as much as it’s intimidating. It’s long and thick, and it’s even shaped like an actual penis. It has veins and everything. Honestly, it’s kind of grotesque! But you can’t just leave poor Dirk hanging; he looked as if his entire life depended on this single toy.

You stand and strip out of your lingerie panties so you can put on the strap-on. It fits snugly around your legs and hips, and a small knob at the base presses into your mound and rests up against your clit. You assume it vibrates, since there’s a switch on a little remote that comes with it.

By the time you’re situated, Dirk returns from his shower, mostly dried off and naked. You still get a little dizzy whenever you see him like this. He’s so unbelievably handsome when he is completely nude and vulnerable to you. Okay. Maybe you can do this after all.

“I cleaned everything and I prepped myself a little,” Dirk murmurs. He crawls onto the bed and goes to you, where he kisses you and strokes your fake cock. “Ugh, god.”

You look at him and you see he’s already partially aroused and biting his lip. Taking some initiative, you lean in and stroke his side, thumb brushing over his nipple. He gasps and leans into your touch, then nuzzles his face against your neck.

“I’m going to…” he whispers. He backs away and flops down on the bed before raising his legs and touching himself a little. “Jane, can you get the lube?”

You nod, slightly overwhelmed, and go to the bedside table. There, you pull out the lube (you wondered why you even needed it since you get wet enough as it is, but now you suppose that Dirk uses it for masturbation) and hand it over. Dirk pours a seemingly ludicrous amount of lubrication onto his fingers, briefly spreads it around, then plunges both of them into his hole. You wince because you think it must be uncomfortable for him, but the only thing on his face is relief and pleasure. He moans softly as he works his fingers inside of himself, squirming slightly on the sheets and arching his back. It’s actually quite the beautiful spectacle, and it has you rubbing your thighs together in the beginnings of arousal.

“Is this okay for you?” Dirk asks mid-prep, his face slightly contorted with pleasure as he continues to scissor and wriggle his fingers. You give a half-hearted shrug and blush.

“It’s kind of strange but if this is what you want…”

“I want you to want it, too.”

“I do. Because you want it.”

Dirk chuckles softly and gasps suddenly, arching off the bed and moaning loudly. You watch as he repeats the action over and over, making sweat dribble down his thighs and arse.

“O-Okay, I think…” Dirk whispers. He withdraws his fingers and rolls over before bringing his hips and ass up. He presses his face into the pillow. “I’m ready.”

His voice is steady but you can just _feel_ the anxiety in his words. You can’t tell if he’s nervous or if he just wants this really bad. With a sigh, you get up on your knees behind him and carefully place your hands upon his rump, spreading him a little and gulping. You almost back out again because there’s no bloody way you can do this, but a whine from Dirk has you sucking it up and going for it.

It seems impossible at first. The thick head of the strap-on is difficult to line up with his entrance because everything is so slick and tight at the same time, so you have to very carefully maneuver your way in. The whole time, Dirk is gasping and moaning softly against the sheets, nails clawing at the fabric, his back arching. After a moment, something seems to give and it begins to sink into him, slowly but surely. His panting grows louder and quicker and his hands scrabble for something to grab onto.

“Are you okay?” you ask, pausing. He nods frantically and looks back at you over his shoulder.

“Uh-huh. Keep going.”

You don’t have much left to work with, so you easily sheathe the rest of the toy inside of him, making him groan with satisfaction. Honestly you… don’t really know what to do next. You kind of just sit there for a moment contemplating your options. You remember what Dirk does to you when you’re face-down-ass-up like this, so you slowly pull out a little and push back in before pausing again. Dirk laughs at you and you grit your teeth in indignation.

“I don’t really get this, okay?” you ask, quite peeved.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry, babe. I just… this feels so fucking great with you and… mmm,” Dirk hums softly.  “You can just… yeah, mm, turn on the vibrations.”

You swallow and nod before turning it on to the medium setting. The response is instantaneous; Dirk lets out a long whine and you squeal softly as both of you are stimulated by the vibrations of the toy. He keeps clenching his fist in the sheets, so you lean forward and gently rest your hand over his. With a deep, determined sigh, you begin to move with a steady(ish) rhythm, back and forth, back and forth, rotating your hips just so in an attempt to find the right angle.

All the while, Dirk is whimpering softly into the sheets, a few tears dripping onto the pillow as he bites down on his lip and takes it. Concerned, you rub his back.

“Are you okay?”

He nods, sobs, and holds your hand close to him while he looks up and over his shoulder at you, all glossy eyes and trembling, cherry red lips. It occurs to you just how badly he’s needed this, and you’re suddenly filled with such intense guilt that you almost stop. However, Dirk motions for you to turn up the vibrations and all thoughts beyond that shrivel into nothing.

As he cries openly below you, you simply massage his back and ass with one hand and you let him hold and kiss the other. He focuses on your engagement ring mostly, kissing it over and over as hot tears drip into your palm.

When the two of you cum, neither of you are seeing stars or shrieking in absolute ecstasy. Rather, you kind of shiver and Dirk gives this long, drawn out sigh and moan of relief. You stay inside of him for a long while, just gently moving your hips back and forth until he’s too tight to do much movement, then pull out.

There’s a long silence after that.

You kind of expected it to be kinkier than this, but if Dirk’s satisfied, then you’re satisfied. You watch as he slumps to his side on the bed, still giving the occasional twitch or soft little groan. He gestures for you to join him, so you remove the strap-on and sheepishly lie down beside him.

“Thank you, Jane. I know that wasn’t what you were expecting, but I needed that,” Dirk sighs. He turns away from you, then reaches back for your arm and pulls it over his waist. It’s kind of weird spooning him since he’s so much taller than you, but you suppose it’s worth it to feel the steady rise and fall of his strong chest. “That wasn’t very sexy for you, was it?”

“I don’t mind,” you giggle, lifting your head to look down at him. He looks back up at you and gives you a half-smirk. He’s still so young, but you can see the beginning of wrinkles around his eyes and lips. Laugh lines. Laugh lines that you put there. Laugh lines that _Callie_ put there. “I was only worried that you weren’t attracted to me anymore.”

“Jane, what you just did was probably the best thing you’ve ever done to me. Seriously. Didn’t I tell you that I have a thing for dicks _and_ nice racks?” he asks. He emphasizes his words by squeezing one of your boobs. You slap his hand away and laugh.

“I’m guessing you’ll want to do this again, then?”

“…If you’d be alright with it, yes. I know it’s not incredibly hot or satisfying for you, but…”

“Well, it was our first try. I’m sure we can find some way to make it sexy for both of us,” you say. Dirk rolls onto his back and you trace circles over his chest with your fingers.

“I love you,” he says.

“I love you, too,” you reply.

There’s another long, comfortable silence while you rest your head under his chin and the two of you stare up at the ceiling fan together. He trails lines up and down your spine with his blunt pinkly nail while you run your fingers through his wispy chest hair.

“I miss Callie,” Dirk sighs. “How do you think she’s doing?”

“Well, she’s with Dad and Rosa, so I’m sure she’s being spoiled rotten,” you sigh. “Should we go and get her?”

Dirk thinks for a long time.

“Nah. Nap first. More sex later? If you put that lingerie back on, we could get wild and fuck all over the house.”

“That sounds bloody excellent.”


	32. Chapter 32

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here it is, folks. The final chapter of No Rain. It's been really fun!!! I'd like to sincerely thank all of you for reading and enjoying, for leaving your feedback, for leaving kudos and bookmarking and all of that good mumbo-jumbo. If you're interested, follow me on my personal tumblr blog, porrimicide.tumblr.com, where you will find other stuff pertaining to writing and whatnot. Also check out my friend Cherry's blog, cherryburlesque.tumblr.com. She was the arrowhead for all of the proofreading work done for No Rain and was an excellent addition to the No Rain team. And more special thanks to Zami, (zamii070.tumblr.com) for her beautiful cover art and the album art for the No Rain soundtrack, which you can find here: http://porrimicide.tumblr.com/post/55664915606.
> 
> Enjoy!

Time melts away faster than you can grasp it, ratcheting you closer and closer to your impending marriage to Mister Strider. Month after month after month goes flying by without you even noticing it; too busy with Callie, too busy with Dirk. Callie’s first Thanksgiving. Callie’s first Christmas. Callie’s first New Year. Callie’s first Valentine’s Day. Every wonderful moment is photographed and tucked away in a scrapbook. Callie begins to babble. Callie begins to say semblances of words. Her very first word is ‘No’. Her second is ‘Dada’.

Scooting across the floor on her bum becomes crawling. Crawling becomes standing while holding onto a chair. Standing becomes slow, wobbly steps towards Dirk, who holds his arms out and coos at her to come forward.

Callie… turns one year old. You cry while she messily eats a tiny little cupcake with a single candle sticking out of the middle. You cry because she’s growing up too fast. You cry because she doesn’t need you to carry her around all the time. You cry just to cry, and Dirk is very understanding when he comforts you.

Roxy and Jake take a trip to Germany, where they stay there for two months together, exploring the country and meeting new people and spending their happiest days together. Roxy has her ‘tubes tied’, as she promised. Jake gets a vasectomy. When he’s questioned, he tells all of you that he’s always wanted to adopt anyway rather than create his own.

Dad asks Rosa to marry him and she accepts. They get married quietly. They don’t have a wedding nor a reception. They don’t have witnesses. They simply sign their certificates and Rosa Maryam, your doctor, the one who helped you birth Callie, becomes your daughter’s grandmother.

You and Dad have a disagreement. Dad wants you to look at Rosa as a mother. You can’t, you say, and he tells you that you must, because it isn’t fair that you haven’t had a mother all these years. Dad weeps on that day, deep, sorrowful sobs that rattle his not-so-young bones while you tell him that Rosa will never be a mother to you. Rather, she will be a friend, a very close friend, and you will proudly call her the grandmother of your child. But never your mother. It’s too late for a mother figure in your life, you tell him. He raised you just fine. You tell him that you just want him to be happy. He tells you that he wants you to have a complete family.

You tell him that your family has always been complete. Your family has always been him and Dirk and Roxy and Jake and Dave and Rose. And now you have Callie, your daughter; and Rosa, your best friend.

Their marriage reminds you of your own engagement. You and Dirk sit down one night and talk it over, gently, softly, while Callie sleeps upstairs. Decisions are made and the process finally, finally begins. Wedding cake is selected, color schemes are mapped out, a chapel is rented out, invitations are made. Roxy is your maid of honor. Jake is Dirk’s best man. Dave throws a temper tantrum about not being selected for that, but Rose talks him down from a full-on breakdown. Dad starts crying weeks before the wedding when he thinks about having to lead you down the aisle.

Like everything else in your crazy, crazy life, time sneaks up on you. April thirteenth is the wedding day. September melts into October into November, December, January, February, March, April. You end up having a nervous breakdown at your bachelorette party in San Diego and blow two hundred dollars at a casino and another hundred on a male stripper who looked kind of like Channing Tatum. The breakdown is followed by crying and tearfully explaining to your girlfriends that wow, time is zooming by at a breakneck speed and that you definitely can’t get married. Porrim then, of course, mentions that she has a polyamorous relationship with the other members of her band (who are also her step brothers) and makes everything awkward for everyone. Thanks Porrim.

Bottom line is, it’s been a long, long time. You and Dirk have been together for… well, a couple years now. You have a daughter and a house and you’re ready to start your normal American family life! Except you’re not. Are you? No. Yes. Everything is confusing, it’s probably Jake’s fault in some way. You’re going to throw up and simultaneously you want to jump for joy and make out with your hot fiancé’s sexy face right now. What. 

* * *

 

“I. Am. _Literally_ ,” you hiss. “Gonna die.”

“Just remember the rehearsal!” Roxy insists. She smacks your back and hands you a glass of chilled white wine. You grab it and dump it out in a nearby trashcan before throwing the entire glass away. “Hey!”

“I can’t drink right now. Everything is so messed up and moving so fast, like, if this was some sort of hilariously _boring_ story, which my life _is_ , everyone would just totally be like, oh hey wow, that was fast, Jane’s getting _married_ , what the _hell_ happened to the past few months?”

“Basically all you did during the last few months was cry about Callie. Ain’t nobody got the time or the attention span for that. Where _is_ Callie, by the way?”

“She’s with Rosa, but that’s not important!” you cry. You reach up to grab at your hair but Roxy shouts and yanks your arms down, preventing you from messing up your pretty up-do. “Crying over Callie was normal, this is not, I’m getting _married_ today, Rox.”

“Dude. You’re going to be fine. You’re gonna look totally sexy in your wedding dress.”

“Roxy’s right,” Rose speaks up from the corner, where she’s flipping through a prestige, snooty, high-brow magazine. She looks up at you with a small smile. “You will be just fine, my dear. If I know anything about Striders, it’s that they are very casual about their weddings.”

“I suppose,” you say.

“And I know for a fact that Dave has quite a few more sticks up his ass than any Strider who has ever existed. He went on a diet for his dress, for cripe’s sake. Luckily for you, Dirk doesn’t have to make _everything_ about irony. So please try to… well, have fun. It _is_ your wedding, after all,” Rose soothes.

“Alright,” you sigh. You glance over at the dress laid out over the bed and sigh before you unbutton the top few buttons of your shirt. “Let’s do this.”

An hour and a lot of fussing and primping and teary eyes later, you’re standing before the mirror in your wedding dress, which is rather simple. Roxy had wanted to go with strapless when the two of you had gone shopping, but with your bountiful bosoms you had gotten that idea out of her head quite quickly. So instead the sleeves are long and white and nearly translucent. They’re also cut straight down the middle so they fall away from your forearms at the elbow, giving you much more freedom to move. The bodice is form-fitting, glimmering, and supports your breasts excellently while offering a nice view of your cleavage. A must-have, says Roxy. You remind yourself to punch her stupid beautiful face later.

The skirt is… well, here’s the story. Originally you had wanted to wear a nice pair of pure white stilettos that would’ve been super sexy and they were really cute, too. However, since you’re always so used to being short and low to the ground, you were unable to get even two steps before you were tripping and, subsequently, falling. So you had gone with a dress with a skirt that is knee-length and ruffled and super cute in the front, and long and elegant in the back. That had been with high heels in mind. However, without proper coordination of your stupid feet, you had gone with something simple. Now, white strap sandals with little fluffy bows on the top occupy your feet. There’s a tiny bit of heel though to at least give you a little height. And make you look less childish.

And of course, a garter belt hides under the bottom ruffle of your skirt. Just putting it on makes you blush. Rose assures you that she has a surprise for Dirk and to just wait and see. You’re instantly suspicious.

Makeup’s next, and Roxy’s the master. While she loves dramatic lines and lots of color, you’re more a lady of elegant, rich, and subtle tones. Roxy understands this perfectly, of course. She first puts this dusty powder foundation all over your face, commenting jealously about how you don’t have a single blemish on your face, then something about beautiful Asians. You begin to tell her that it’s not because of your race but… oh, what the hell. You _are_ a beautiful Asian!

Next she paints this really high-end candy red lip stain onto your lips, reaching every contour and nook and cranny with ease. She tells you that it’s a moisturizer too and that it won’t smear when you make out with Dirk later. You try not to giggle nervously in the presence of Rose’s knowing smile.

Blush, bronzer, eyeliner, shadow, and a whole bunch of other makeup jargon later, your face is complete. When you look in the mirror you almost don’t recognize yourself, what with your usually curly, plain hair pulled back into a bun with blue flowers rung around it, the ringlets of hair framing your face, your perfect, almost photoshopped face.

“You look fucking rad as shit, Janey,” Roxy gushes. “Ohhh my god I have to post this on Facebook. Everyone’s gonna think I ‘shopped your face but no, Jane, no _way_ , this is the true, beautiful you.”

“You don’t think I look fake?” you ask, reaching up to just barely brush your fingers against your soft cheek. Roxy shakes her head.

“Hell no! Well, like, when makeup’s used to like… accent things that aren’t there? Well that’s fake. But I made all of your super great qualities that you already have… pop! Like your frickin’ beautiful eyes and your frickin’ beautiful nose and lips… actually _everything_ about you is beautiful. We’re getting a divorce, Jane, you’re way too beautiful. It hurts my eyes. Also I took into account that you’re probably gonna cry like a big baby at the altar -trust me I’ve _heard_ Dirk’s vows- so everything is waterproof _and_ sweatproof.”

“Thank goodness. I’m wearing about ten layers of deodorant.”

“Here. Spritzing some perfume, close your eyes.”

You shut your eyes as Roxy sprays you with a bit of sweet-smelling perfume that smells like a bakery.

“Mmm, vanilla.”

“The fastest way to a man’s heart is through his stomach,” Roxy says sagely. “Also a very good way to shut him up.”

“Good point.”

“Agreed,” says Rose with a distracted tone in her voice. Roxy laughs. You just kind of stand there nervously until you hear a soft knocking on the door.

“Ladies?” comes your father’s voice from outside the door. You turn, clasp your hands together, and put on a timid smile. Roxy opens the door and Dad walks in, only to take one look at you and U-turn straight out of the room again.

“Daddy!” you laugh, jogging to the door and looking down the hall at your father, who has fallen to his knees on the floor and has his head down on the carpet. You giggle and go to him, kneeling and patting his back as he cries. “There, there. Do we need to get out the mustaches?”

That only makes him cry harder, which you assume is because it’s something the two of you did when you were young.

“Come on, Dad, you’re going to make me cry.”

Dad sniffles and rises up onto his knees, then brings you tightly into his arms.

“You’re lucky Mr. Strider is s-such a good man, or else I’d t-t-take you high up into the mountains where we can be together f-forever.”

“That’s creepy, Dad, but thanks,” you say. You snuggle him then pull away. He hauls himself to his feet, then helps you to yours.

“You… I’m speechless,” he sighs. “You look absolutely gorgeous.”

He holds your face in his hands and kisses the top of your head, to which Roxy responds by giving you another spurt of hairspray.

“Are you nervous?” he asks.

“I’m only nervous because everyone’s making a big hoopla about this whole thing! We’re just getting married, jeez. I’m more nervous than I was when I told you I was pregnant with Dirk’s baby,” you say. Pause. “But yes, I’m shaking in my knickers!”

“You’ll do wonderfully, my darling,” Dad says. He embraces you and rocks you in his arms while you try not to smudge your makeup on his fancy suit and tie. “If anyone’s going to have trouble, it’s going to be me. I don’t know if I’ll be able to just _hand_ you over to Mister Strider, Jane.”

“Oh, brother. Let’s just go! I can’t wait any longer!” you cry, hopping up and down on the balls of your feet. Roxy touches up your hair and smoothes your dress one more time before you, Roxy, Dad, and Rose are all filing out of the Crocker household and getting into the limousine waiting outside. You sigh loudly while Roxy shrieks with delight. “I told you not to go all out, Dad.”

“It’s your wedding night,” he says in response as he tips the chauffeur. Once the whole lot of you is loaded into the car, you take off towards Seattle. The car ride is… well, distracting, because everyone sips a little champagne and Dad tells stories about your childhood (most of them are fibs, you claim) and Roxy nearly spills on her bridesmaid dress.

However, as the limo exits the expressway you begin to feel queasy with nerves. Impossible scenarios fill your head. What if your dress falls off? Or what if you have something in your teeth? Or what if Dirk leaves you at the altar? These are all terrible things to think about, so you force yourself to relax and think positive.

The chapel is a prestige and glistening white building with a bell tower and lots of green grass and massive stained glass windows. Even though Dirk’s an atheist and you’re -well, you weren’t raised on any religion- not sure what you are, the building was intended to be used for religious purposes. However, the two of you are having a secular wedding (you’re sure Dirk paid the owners of the building extra for that). Personally, you don’t really mind the windows depicting the Virgin Mary holding baby Jesus or the big cross hanging right over the altar. Dirk got a little uppity about that, but you were able to prevent him from doing something offensive like take the cross down. It’s going to be difficult to raise Callie when Dirk is so vocally against religion, but you’re hoping that he’ll at least agree to allow Callie to have a choice.

But you’re not here to discuss religion. The chauffeur opens the door for you and you graciously step out. The breeze is nice and, given that it’s April, it _is_ a trifle chilly, but you don’t mind. Now that you’re out of the car, Roxy adds the final touch; a hair piece with a long veil that hangs down your back.

“Yay! You look so pretty!” Roxy squeals, clapping her hands together. “Aren’t you glad you got that manicure now?”

“I suppose,” you laugh. You look down at your nails. During your bachelorette party, Roxy had insisted that you get a French manicure and you reluctantly agreed. Turns out they’re not so bad.

“Shall we?” Dad asks, offering you his arm. You smile (a bit weakly) and take it, grateful for his strong, solid weight beside you. He escorts you into the chapel with Rose and Roxy trailing behind. Roxy holds up the back of your dress so it doesn’t get dirty from the cobblestone path up to the double doors.

Inside, you can hear music playing as your guests are ushered into the pews. It’s a slow and beautiful melody that you remember from your childhood. With a start and a smile, you realize it is the very first full song you learned on the piano, except modified to sound a bit more professional. You look at your dad with heartfelt love and he beams back at you, standing a little taller after that.

Rose departs to make their way down the aisle with the other bridesmaids and groomsmen, leaving you, Dad, and Roxy at the back of the line. Callie is guided in next by Rosa, who holds her hand as Callie toddles forward, sucking on a pacifier. You wave to her and she waves her hand back at you, about to go to you, but Rosa redirects her attention to the aisle. Rosa releases her hand just before they go in and you smile tearfully as Callie goes down the aisle while grabbing fistfuls of flowers and chucking them at the floor. She gets a lot of attention from the older crowd and many photographs are taken of her. You remind yourself to get some copies of those pictures.

Roxy’s next, so naturally she goes bounding down the aisle, stops to groove to the progression music, slaps the best man (Jake, of course) on the ass, and bounces to her place at the altar.

And then it’s your turn.

You’d like to say something romantic like… how attractive Dirk looks with his hands clasped tightly behind his back and his hair slicked and styled perfectly and his black suit crisp and fresh pressed. You’d like to say how much you admire the garland and the baby blue theme that brings a homely feeling to the room. You’d like to say that you love how Callie is bouncing in excitement and making whining noises when she sees you.

But really all you can concentrate on is the floor as you blush wildly and cling on to your father for dear life. Who gave them permission to let you get married?! You’re only twenty-two, confound it! There’s no possible way this can be happening, this is a dream-

Dad says something and the congregation laughs as you look up with a start. Dad is trying to hand you over to Dirk and you’re so busy clinging to his arm that you forgot you were having a wedding in the first place. Dirk smiles gorgeously at you. It’s not fair how stunning he is.

Dad gives your hand to Dirk, who takes it and pulls you up to stand beside him (to his left). You can see Roxy bouncing with excitement and Rose pinching her out of the corner of your eye. Dad is still lingering next to the altar, looking reluctant, until he sighs and sits in his seat in the front row. He wipes tears from his eyes as Rosa holds Callie in her lap and soothes her husband.

The music comes to a close and you and Dirk turn towards the officiant together. You clutch the bouquet that magically appeared in your hands while you were busy being nervous out of your skull. You’re shaking. Dirk must notice this, because he puts a gentle hand on the small of your back and rubs circles with his thumb across your spine. You take a deep breath and dare to glance over.

He’s got tiny beads of sweat on his brow and, while his eyes stay clear and focused, you can see how tightly his jaw is clenched and you can see the way his adam’s apple bobs as he swallows heavily. He then glances at you in return and the two of you catch each other’s eyes. His lips twitch up into a crooked, nervous smile. You grin back at him, and it’s then that you know that everything will be alright.

You can admit that the ceremony is pretty boring. Basically the officiant just stands there describing how the two of you met, what brought you together (thankfully he omitted the part about the drunken sex the two of you had), and he talks about Callie a bit. He makes some metaphors about how rings represent unending love, blah blah blah, something about purity, some other things.

During the exchanging of the rings is when the real fun begins. You gulp and turn towards Dirk, waiting for him to tell you his vows. He stands there for a long moment and kind of flaps his mouth a bit before sighing and reaching into his pocket.

“I thought I had this memorized,” he says, pulling out a bundle of index cards held together with a rubber band. Everyone laughs, including him, but it’s more of a nervous splutter. He clears his throat and looks down at the cards. “Uh…”

There’s a long silence as he flips a card over and re-organizes them. Once he’s settled, he clears his throat again, straightens, and reads from his cards.

“Jane. Three years ago I never would’ve guessed that someday I would be standing up here about to tie the knot. With you, of all people! I honestly expected it to be some stranger I’d divorce in a year. Or… more realistically, no one at all. I never expected to fall in love, and I never expected to be so swept up in this. I never expected to fall in love again when you were pregnant with our daughter, and then a third time when she was born. Jane, you’ve awoken life in me that I never thought existed. I…”

He pauses and takes a shuddering breath.

“Didn’t really think I’d live to be where I am now,” he says. The implication of thoughts of suicide silences the entire room completely. Without thinking, you reach out between the two of you and you take his free hand. He smiles when you squeeze his fingers. “There are way too many things that I want to say sorry for. Everyone will be here for a year if I could apologize for everything that I’ve done and said and thought in my lifetime.

“But I swear to you that I’ll always be there for you when you wake, that I will raise our child with you, that we will become grandparents together, and a whole bunch of really lame sounding stuff that I wrote on this card. You can read it later, baby, but I’m not gonna read it in front of this crowd.”

You laugh and nod.

“Promise?” you ask. Your voice is small and it keeps cracking. Dirk grins and slips the ring onto your finger.

“Yeah. And I have more things written too that aren’t very appropriate for childrens’ ears…”

“Alright! I’ll read those later!” you say hurriedly while everyone starts laughing again. “My vows are nowhere near as nice, goodness!”

“Hit me with your best shot.”

You take a breath.

“I’m probably the plainest woman in the world,” you begin. “I like normal things like reading and I love to bake. I grew up with my dad and I had normal grades at a normal high school, and I went to a normal college where I got a plain bachelor’s degree. Everything about me is normal. Yet you, someone so extraordinary, so amazing at everything you do, so unbelievably _not_ normal… how you could ever fall in love with me, a Plain Jane, I’ll never know. Even though you have a bad habit of leaving your things everywhere, especially sharp things that aren’t very pleasant to walk on, I love you. Even though you snore at night, I love you. Even though you make a huge mess in the kitchen when you so much as try to help me cook, I love you. Even though you sometimes get distant and hard to talk to when you’re busy with work, I love you. You’re my extraordinary, magnificent, not-so-perfect man, and I love every single bit of you no matter what you say. Sometimes when I’m feeling low you do everything in your power to make me feel like I’m the brightest star shining in the sky, but you fail to realize that you yourself are the sun; perfect, everlasting, and eternally bound to me even though sometimes it feels like we’re lightyears apart in both body and mind. I love you, Mister Strider, and I am downright giddy at the thought of becoming your Mrs. Strider.”

Dirk just nods because he can’t make a witty statement. Big fat tears are streaming down his cheeks and he’s gripping your hand so hard that it kinda hurts. You give him a sympathetic smile and he finally lets out a sob, ducking his head and gritting his teeth while a few people coo at him from the audience and take pictures. You see Callie getting restless out of the corner of your eye, so you nod to Rosa. She releases your daughter and Callie comes running up to the altar, tripping on her way up the steps. She grabs hold of Dirk’s leg and holds on tight to it. He just chokes out a tearful laugh and stoops down to pick her up.

“Mommy and Daddy are busy,” he says thickly, which makes the congregation laugh again. You beam at him and slip the ring on his finger. “That was a low blow, Miss Crocker. My vows were supposed to make you break down like a little pansy. I’m going to have to make you my wife now to make up for it.”

“Gladly.”

“This is cornier than English’s rom-coms,” Roxy drawls, earning a smack in the back of the head from her mother.

“It’s so b-b-beautiful!” Jake wails while the other groomsmen lean away from him.

The officiant looks eager to finish things up, so he speeds through the rest of the wedding mumbo-jumbo and, before you know it, it’s time for the big smooch. Dirk loops an arm around your waist and kisses you nice and slow to give relatives the time to snap about a thousand pictures. Meanwhile Callie pats your cheeks, trying to get the attention back to her. You smooch her on the nose, too.

And then you’re pronounced husband and wife and you officially become Mrs. Jane Strider. There’s a great deal of noise as the congregation stands and applauds you and Dirk on the way down the aisle. You toss your bouquet back and Roxy tears a few bitches down to get to it.

Later that evening, the two of you enjoy a wonderful wedding reception in a ballroom in downtown Seattle. The first dance is Michael Jackson’s Thriller, which Dave apparently choreographed and put together with Dirk, Jake, and Dad. It’s pretty much the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever seen in your life, and everyone gets an eyeful of just how attractive your dad (supposedly) is. Nobody knew that, underneath the classy dress shirts and ties, the man had full tattoo sleeves and even more tattoos on his back. Almost everyone falls in love with the Foxy Grandpa. Rosa prides herself in being _married_ to said Foxy Grandpa.

The ‘surprise’ Rose had been planning ends up being a trick played on Dirk. The lights are dimmed and Dirk gets blindfolded while you’re seated in the middle of the dancefloor. However, someone grabs your shoulders and pulls you away. Instead, Dave is placed in the seat with a similar wedding dress. You cover your face in horror as Dirk removes a garter from his own brother’s thigh with his teeth. When Dirk finds out, they have a strife session in the middle of the dancefloor which ends up with two bloody noses and a near-concussion.

Dirk gets his sexy time, however, and it isn’t long before you’re calling out to Callie to cover her eyes while Dirk spends a bit too much time with his head between your legs beneath your wedding dress. After that, though, things calm down a bit and everyone returns to their regularly scheduled dancing and mingling. Dirk dances with you, then Rosa, then Callie, then you again. You, meanwhile, have a great number of dances with relatives. You dance with Dad, Dave, and Jake as well. But at the end of the night, when the younger ones are getting tired and the adults are trickling out the door, you slow dance with Dirk, swaying back and forth with your sleeping daughter cradled between the two of you.

You gaze into his eyes and he gazes into yours, and there’s nothing there but pure, unadulterated love, and an unspoken promise. You know he meant it when he said that he’d be with you through sickness and through health, through good times and ill times, through sunshine and through rain. You feel the same way.

He kisses you slow and easy like a husband should. Kisses you in a way that says ‘yes, we have a future together. Yes, we are married, just as two individuals who are in love should be’. ‘But what comes after that?’, one might ask.

Well, all you can say is that your life is pretty plain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> haha just kidding there's going to be an epilogue


	33. Chapter 33

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, the finale for real this time. It's been great, thank you for reading! <3

“Haaaaaaay!”

“There they are, Callie, wave hello!”

“Hiiii!” you squeal, kicking up your feet as Daddy laughs and sets you down. You run to Auntie Roxy and Uncle Jake as fast as you can, tripping over your feet as you go. You hug Uncle Jake’s legs because they’re so fuzzy, and he laughs as he scoops you up and hugs you.

“Gosh, you’ve gotten so big!” Uncle Jake says while you run your fingers through his tickly beard.

“You saw her literally about three weeks ago, silly.”

You giggle at your aunt and uncle, the turn to grin nice and big at Daddy as he walks closer.

“How was the honeymoon?” he asks. You don’t understand what that means, so you busy yourself with playing with Uncle Jake’s seashell necklace.

“Uh, duh, it was perfect,” Aunt Roxy says. “I sunbathed out on the deck of the yacht _naked_ , Dirk, I mean, how frickin’ perf is that, huh? I have an all-over tan and me and Jake got a lotta lovin’ done.”

“I’ll take all of you out on the yacht sometime, even you, Callie,” Uncle Jake says. You look up and grin big and wide. “But you’ll have to wear a life jacket.”

“Nuh, Daddy says I’m a really good swimmer!” you protest, smacking Uncle Jake with your palm. You grab the heart-shaped sunglasses off of the top of your chocolate brown hair and put them over your eyes. “I don’t wanna wear those!”

“But it’s the law, little lady,” Uncle Jake says. He bounces you a little on his hip. “You’re not old enough yet.”

“I’m at least four!” you yell. You hold up four fingers in Uncle Jake’s face. Everyone laughs while you pout.

“Where are Dave and Mom?” Aunt Roxy asks after a little bit. She shields her eyes from the sun with her hand. “In the cottage already?”

“Yeah, they were complaining about the heat. You’d think since Dave practically grew up on the California beaches, he’d be used to them by now.”

You love going to Uncle Dave and Aunt Rose’s cottage. It’s in California and it’s right next to the beach, so it’s always warm and you can always see the ocean when you’re standing on the back porch of their cottage. It’s really cool, and Mommy and Daddy take you there every summer. Grandma and Grandpa were supposed to come, too, but they said it’s too hot this year.

But it’s okay, because your mommy and daddy are here and all of your uncles and aunts are, too. Speaking of which…

“Where’s Mommy?” you ask, turning to look at your father. He smiles and takes you from Uncle Jake.

“She’s inside, peanut. C’mon, I think they’re going to get started on dinner soon.”

With that, all of you go back inside the cottage, where you reluctantly put your sunglasses back on the top of your head. You like sunglasses, especially because Daddy wears them a lot.

Inside, Uncle Dave, Aunt Rose, and Mommy are sitting together in the living room and drinking tea. Mommy lights up when she sees Aunt Roxy and Uncle Jake, so she starts to get to her feet.

“Roxy, Jake! It’s so wonderful to see you!” she says, struggling a little. Aunt Roxy laughs.

“Whoa there, big girl, don’t fall,” Aunt Roxy teases. She comes forward and helps Mommy to her feet. Mommy huffs and rubs her really big tummy.

“Goodness gracious, he’s getting heavy,” she sighs. Daddy has a really soft and happy look on his face.

“How you doing, babe?” he asks. He walks up to give Mommy a kiss, so you lean in and give her a kiss, too.

“As good as a woman can get with literal and metaphorical buns in her oven,” Mommy answers. She pats her tummy again.

“How’s the bakery, anyway?” Uncle Jake asks. “I mean, you had that little hiccup last time we spoke…”

“Problem solved! Although Dirk did get a little cross with me. You know, the whole maternity leave thing. But I couldn’t stay away!” Mommy says. “But I got it all sorted out. Dirk helped me fix the ovens and they’re running fine and dandy again.”

“That’s great to hear!”

“I’m getting all antsy to get back in the bakery again. I miss the smell of fresh baked goods.”

“For now, just focus on bakin’ that baby!” Aunt Roxy says, and that makes everyone laugh.

“Ah, how I wish I had a little squirt of my own,” Uncle Dave drawls. “But Dirk ruined that for me. Not to mention Rose is a dusty old hag.”

“Oh? I thought you were the one who was shooting blanks.”

“Hey, it’s not my fault the baby batter is scared of witches like you.”

“Old man.”

“Hag.”

“John McCain.”

“ _Betty White_.”

Mommy rolls her eyes, then lifts you carefully out of Daddy’s arms.

“Are you hungry, lovey?” she asks. You nod.

“I’m really hungry!”

“Then let’s make dinner together, okay? Then you can help Daddy and Uncle Dave fix the dune buggy, just like Daddy promised. Right, Daddy?”

“Of course. Couldn’t fix a buggy without my little mechanic.”

Mommy puts you down and you help her with dinner. She teaches you how to mix the salad dressing and take little tastes to make sure it’s just right, then she even lets you flip a hamburger patty on the grill out on the back porch.

You look up into the clear, cloudless sky which is beginning to turn orange with the sunset. It tints your bright blue eyes as you look up into the endless expanses of the sky. Sometimes in your dreams you can see even further into the sky, high above the clouds and the atmosphere and into the stars, and then sometimes you see a lone figure sitting alone on the dusty moon, almost like a nursery rhyme you scarcely remember.

In your dreams, the figure always waves to you, like some sort of friendly guardian angel.

You always wave back.

 

**END**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final stats:  
> Font: Times New Roman  
> Font size: 12  
> Words: 112,871  
> Pages: 202  
> Start date: June 5th, 2013  
> End date: September 4th, 2013  
> Days: 91  
> Avg. Words/Day: 1,241


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